


Daylight

by mangochi



Category: Almost Human
Genre: Anal Sex, Background Case, Domestic, Fluff, Hook-Up, Light Angst, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sexbots, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-05 10:24:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1815181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangochi/pseuds/mangochi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard’s not looking for anything serious this Friday night, but the sexbot’s way more than he bargained for.</p><p>Side story/sequel to One More Night, but could also be standalone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For those who know Adam from [One More Night](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1151360/chapters/2334132), here's a side story/sequel featuring him and the other cranky detective.

It’s a Friday night, two cases wrapped up and delivered to Maldonado all tied up in a nice bow, and Richard Paul’s ready to get drunk and get laid, not necessarily in that order. It’s a treat he saves for himself on special occasions, and it doesn’t get any more special than finally beating Kennex to a decent lead on a major case.

“You boys have yourselves a fun night,” he’s cheerful enough to jibe, leaning over the rail as he exits Maldonado’s office. Kennex looks up from his pile of paperwork in time to flip Richard off before Dorian reaches over and diplomatically pulls his hand down, and Richard laughs as he passes by.

Kennex is raring at the bit by the time Paul descends to the ground level. “Just let me take one-”

“John, calm down,” Dorian says reasonably, and Richard doesn’t bother hiding his smirk as he pushes past the heavy glass doors.

It’s shaping up to be a good night already, he thinks as he crosses the parking lot, feeling unusually at peace with the world as he steps out of the station. Pissing Kennex off aside, it’s warm out, a slight breeze keeping the temperature from being unbearable, and his car gleams welcomingly in the corner of the lot. Richard casts it a thoughtful glance, then decides on an alternate route for the night. He lives close enough to the station to be able to foot it every now and then, though he doesn’t plan on making it home just yet.

“Taxi,” he calls, as he steps out into the street, and he watches as a vehicle maneuvers obediently to the curb. “11th District,” he tells the middle-aged man in the front as he slides in. “I’ll say when.”

…………..

The street corners are all familiar to him now, and Richard counts them absently as he passes by. There was the hookah joint he worked for three months undercover and Hanna’s girls at the next turn, draped in glitter and paint and empty promises. They’re all good kids, though, beneath the pretenses built up from too many hard years on the streets.

In fact, Richard thinks ruefully, he’s probably spent more years on these streets himself than he has anywhere else. Definitely more than anyone else at the station, which has served him just fine throughout his career. Now, though, it was advantageous in a completely different way.

“Here,” he says suddenly, tapping sharply at the window, and the cab swerves to a stop.

“You sure?” the driver asks skeptically. “Ain’t nothing here, son.”

“I’m sure,” Richard assures, reaching in his pocket. “How much?”

“Your funeral,” the driver mutters, before taking Richard’s bitcoin and tapping it to the meter. Seconds later, Richard’s exiting the cab, folding his jacket over his arm as he takes in the sight before him. It’s not much to look at, he has to admit, but if the spray of blue and white paint on the brick wall is anything to judge by, the real attraction isn’t on the outside.

He tips his head back and studies the building, which appears by all counts to be an empty storefront. Across the street, he hears a scattering of laughter from the teens perched on the steps of an apartment building, smells the faint undercurrent of smoke and perfume that laces this section of the district.

Richard ventures a little way into the alley, following the graffiti and stopping where it ends above a plain, nondescript door set into the brickwork. He raps on it a couple of times, right beneath the word Cobalt sprayed along the side of the door, listening to the way his knocks rattle along the thick steel. He steps back when a narrow slot slides open at eye level, giving a nod at the blue-tinted glasses peering through from the other side.

“ID, mister,” says a bored, female voice with a stiff British accent. Richard looks exasperatedly at the slot, holding his arms out in a “are you kidding me” gesture.

“On second thought, never mind.” The slot closes and the door swings open, spilling forth a wave of deep, thumping beats and flickering lights. The girl stationed at the door can’t be much older than the age restriction herself, wearing nothing but what looks like a black unitard and covered in tattoos everywhere else. She tips an imaginary hat at Richard’s scrutiny, pushing her crimson lollipop into one cheek to purse her lips at him obnoxiously, and he moves on.

It’s his first time at this particular club, courtesy of a recommendation from a friend of a friend, but he already finds himself saddled with mixed feelings about the place. On one hand, it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before- the grime of the slums met halfway by technology of dubious legality, colored lights spinning over the overflowing dancefloor and shattered glass crunching underfoot along with all manner of spills and stains. The air is warm and slightly humid, and the musk of sweat and pheromones only increase as Richard works his way towards the bar.

But there’s also a certain spark to it that Richard doesn’t see often at any other establishment, illegal or otherwise, a touch of the familiar that calls to his younger days. There are framed pictures on the walls, for one, instead of the smooth holos that frequent most places now, some of them displaying photographs dating back to pre-bot days. And even as he walks, he hears the driving beats of today’s youth fading to an older song that he’s surprised to recognize, guitars and slow chords and rough, unaltered voices from the simpler past.

God, he’s getting old.

Richard shoves the increasingly depressing thoughts away to the back of his mind and slides onto an unoccupied stool, watching as the bartender wanders towards him.

“What can I getcha, buddy?” the kid asks- Christ, is the entire staff this young?

Richard squints at the kid’s bright blue hair and blinks a couple of times before rattling off some orders from the top of his head. He forgets what they are as soon as the kid nods and turns away, but he can’t bring himself to care much as he swivels on the stool and watches the dancers.

Most of the bodies swaying beneath the swirling lights are the young and the brash, full of a vibrancy that Richard can only remember with faint nostalgia. Amongst them are a few sexbots, all flashing eyes and alluring smiles. Richard spots a redhead in the crowd, already wrapped around her client, as far as he can tell, her brethren leaning up against the walls or perched on the narrow tables scattered along the sides of the dance floor.

“Here you go, man,” the bartender says, pushing a glass up to his elbow, and Richard takes the drink without looking, blinking in surprise at the unexpected kick.

“Whoa,” he says, tipping the glass back to inspect its shockingly pink contents. It’s a bit like a hard lemonade, he thinks, with an emphasis on _hard_. Richard stares at it a few more seconds, then shrugs and tosses it back. “Two more,” he tells the bartender, raising two fingers.

“I wouldn’t recommend that,” a smooth voice says beside him. Richard tenses instinctively, one hand dropping to his holster before he remembers that he’s not wearing it, and he masks the movement with an awkward drop to his thigh instead. “Last time I saw a client drink three of those……well, it wasn’t pretty.”

“Yeah?” He raises his eyes to meet the gaze of his new neighbor. He has to raise it quite a bit, which stirs no small amount of annoyance before he realizes who he’s talking to.

“Hey, there.” The sexbot’s eyes are a bright, clear blue, and they crinkle in a friendly smile as Richard looks on. “You looking to play?”

Richard hesitates, looks the bot up and down. It’s a male model, a few inches taller than Richard with broad shoulders and narrow hips under the skimpy leather. He grins under Richard’s inspection, running a hand casually through his short blond hair. “Like what you see, officer?” He has to bend forward slightly to be heard clearly over the music, and Richard finds himself leaning in closer.

“How d’you know?” Richard asks in return, playing along. He likes to think himself as up with the times, at least when it comes to something as insignificant as bedmates- sometimes a man gets curious about these things and finds that he likes cock just as much as the other- and to be honest, he’s not in the mood for something soft and careful. A celebration’s in order, after all. But, the more he thinks about it, he’s not wearing his badge and, flirting or not, his occupation isn’t something a bang bot should know.

The bot tips his head one way, then the other. “You’ve got that air about you. I like it,” he adds, almost as an afterthought. “What do you think, officer?”

“Detective,” Richard says automatically, and the bot’s smile widens.

“Detective,” he parrots obediently. “Should I call you ‘sir,’ then?”

“Richard.” He’s offering his hand to shake before he catches himself, but the bot only smiles at him bemusedly before grasping Richard’s hand in his own. He pumps it once, then holds on, intertwining their fingers together. Richard smirks a bit, pleasantly surprised at the boldness of the gesture. “You?”

“Whatever you want,” the bot says offhandedly. He moves closer to lean against the bar beside Richard, pressing their shoulders together. Richard chuckles quietly and looks back at the dancers. It’s been a while since his last tryst with a male bot, but he thinks he can get on board with this.

“I’m not the creative type,” he finally says. “You pick. Just not ‘John,’ okay? Or Dorian,” he suddenly adds. “It’d be weird.”

“Yeah? How so?”

“Reminds me of work,” Richard mutters, shaking his head. “Trust me, you don’t wanna know.”

“I’ll take your word for it, then.” The bot’s still holding his hand, and he squeezes gently until Richard looks back at him. When he does, he feels his breath stick somewhere between his mouth and throat at how goddamn blue those eyes are. He wonders for a split second if Kennex is ever thrown off by his partner’s eyes, then tackles the thought and strangles the life out of it before it tries to get up again.

“Let’s get out of here,” Richard says abruptly, unnerved by his own mind, and he pushes away from the stool.

“The club has rooms upstairs,” the bot murmurs, dipping in close as he speaks. His lips brush the edge of Richard’s ear, and Richard grunts distractedly.

“I’ll put it on your bill, a’ight?” the bartender calls, gesturing vaguely at Richard and the sexbot. Richard nods in response, looking around the crowded club.

“You looking for Franco?” the sexbot asks helpfully. “He’s just over there.” He raises their joined hands to point at a short man in a silver suit, shorter even than Richard, with dark hair braided back in sleek cornrows and a sexbot on each arm. As Richard and the sexbot approach, he can make out pieces of what sounds like a deal between Franco and another customer on the phone.

“No, no, _you_ listen, babe,” the dark man’s rattling off in a fast, biting accent. “Two hundred square, for an hour with the twins? That’s a _massacre_ , huh? You’re practically ripping me off, and I’m happy for it so long as you follow through, yeah? Whoa hold up a sec- just hold up, I’ll be right back,” he says hastily, catching sight of Richard. He snaps the phone shut and whirls on his heel, ready with a wide smile as he tips his violet lenses up on his forehead. “Yo, my man, what can I do for you tonight?”

Richard eyes the two bots, both buxom blondes that he suspects are the twins in question. “I need a room,” he says, cutting straight to the point. Beside him, his bot gives a quiet laugh.

Franco looks put out for a second before extending his hand. “I’m Franco, please t’do business with ya.”

“Yeah.” Richard refrains from giving his own name as he gives Franco’s hand a single shake. The man’s fingers are covered in rings, one of them a wide silver band studded with rubies that press uncomfortably against Richard’s palm.

“How long you looking at?” Franco asks, seemingly unfazed by Richard’s silence. “Adam here’s a real treat, y’know,” he’s fast to add, nodding at the bot. “Used to belong to some sleaze on the other side of the Lower Term who’d lend him out for independent contracting, yeah? Go out for a night, sneaking into other clubs, bring back the coin the next morning…..it ain’t an honest living, you ask me.” Franco shakes his head mournfully, the beads on the ends of his braids clicking with the motion.

Richard refrains the urge to roll his eyes. The funky pink stuff is burning pleasantly in his stomach, and Adam’s hand is warm in his own. He just wants a bed about five minutes ago.

“Anyway, I was out on the market, looking for a few more dolls for the new place- you like, by the way? So’s I was walking, yeah, saw this gorgeous, I mean _gorgeous_ specimen on sale, the sleaze was ranting on about how he’s good for anything, just don’t lend him out for independent. So I get curious, see, and inquire a bit, and it turns out that-”

“Look,” Richard says, his patience finally running thin. “I’ll pay for the night, okay?” He digs in his pocket and holds up his bitcoin. “I just need a room.”

Franco pouts, but he reaches for his own bitcoin with a flash of beringed fingers, making the transfer deftly. “First room on the left, babe. You want something from the bar, just send a call down.” He reaches inside his jacket and flips out a keycard, spinning it across his knuckles before proffering it to Richard.

“Sure.” Richard pockets his money and the card and heads for the stairs beside the bar, towing Adam behind him. “God, he’s a talker,” he grumbles, as he shoulders past the thick curtains. The stairway is noticeably quieter, cool air wafting gently from above as he climbs towards the second story.

“He thinks he’s funny,” Adam confides, with enough of a laugh in his voice that Richard glances back at him. Adam meets his gaze and says frankly, “He’s about sixty percent bullshit.”

Richard’s startled into a laugh. “Yeah? So am I,” he admits. “It’s to make up for the….” He gestures ruefully at the space over his head.

“You’re not that bad.”

“You’re just paid to say that.”

“I’m not paid at all.” Adam’s matter-of-fact tone catches him off guard again, and Richard shakes his head ruefully. He’s got himself an interesting one, it seems. Some people have a more….cynical view on sexbots, and Richard would never willingly admit this to anyone, but he does agree with Rudy on certain aspects of the industry. How it’s easy to tell some of the bots apart based on more than looks, that they’ve got a rudimentary personality that’s more or less unique.

“I actually enjoy your height,” Adam says. He catches up to Richard on the top step and wraps an arm around his shoulders casually as Richard locates the door. “I bet you do, too.”

“What makes you think that?” Richard asks absently. He swipes the key and the scanner beeps green before the door clicks open.

“People underestimate you because of it,” Adam answers. He reaches over and pushes the door all the way open, one hand at the small of Richard’s back as he nudges him in gently. “And then you kick their asses.”

Richard turns and peers at him, a little of his suspicion returning. Adam blinks at him innocently as he closes the door, hooking his thumbs at the waistband of his clinging pants. “Was I wrong?”

“No,” Richard says slowly. He glances around the room, taking in the polished floor, the gentle blue light that casts everything in a slightly aquatic shade. There are no windows on the white walls, only a round skylight over the bed, and if he listens hard enough, he can hear strains of the club music from downstairs. “You weren’t wrong.”

Adam smiles. “I know.” He advances on Richard and reaches out, sliding his hand along the side of Richard’s face before cupping his jaw with long, strong fingers. Richard swallows involuntarily, trying to remember that he’s supposed to be the client here. He tries to take initiative, turning his head and kissing Adam’s palm, but the bot just laughs softly.

“Relax,” Adam says, then grabs him and knocks him back against the wall, the impact jarring a grunt out of Richard that hitches into a gasp when Adam stretches against him, applying pressure to all the right places. “What do you like?” Adam murmurs in his ear, his fingers skimming down Richard’s sides and settling on his belt.

“I’m, ah….” Richard looks down with difficulty and loses his train of thought when Adam rolls his hips casually, pressing their groins together. “I’m kinda flexible.”

“So am I,” Adam says cheerfully. “Do you want to see?” He hitches his knee up between Richard’s legs and Richard gives a low groan.

“Maybe later,” he growls, grabbing Adam’s waist. “For now, let’s just worry about getting naked, okay?”

“You say the sweetest things,” Adam tells him, his full lips curving in a provocative smile, and Richard snorts, dragging him in for another kiss despite his previous words.

Adam’s kisses are as unpredictable as his behavior, rough and undemanding one second and abruptly soft the next, light flicks of his tongue probing at Richard’s lips until he opens his mouth. Richard tries to give as good as he’s getting, but Adam just leans forward, forcing Richard to crane his neck and lose every hope of getting leverage. One of Adam’s hands slide up between their bodies, undoing buttons as he goes, and Richard grins breathlessly when Adam tugs at his shirt, wrenching it halfway down his arms before leaving the sleeves tangled around his elbows.

“Stay put,” Adam whispers, then drops smoothly to his knees. Richard watches, wide-eyed, as Adam expertly unbuckles his belt, untucking Richard’s undershirt before stripping the belt off and pulling open Richard’s pants. He’s already half hard despite their brief contact, courtesy of the pink drink and the shape of Adam’s mouth as he places a delicate kiss on Richard’s hip.

“Adam,” Richard says hoarsely, and Adam looks up at him questioningly, his fingers curled into the waistband of Richard’s briefs. Richard takes a shaky breath and runs his fingers through Adam’s hair, grasping at the short strands and giving a gentle tug. Adam makes a quiet sound of approval, his head tipping back against Richard’s hand.

“Yeah,” Adam breathes, his eyelids flickering briefly before he locks gazes with Richard again. “Love you,” he says earnestly, and Richard feels a sharp, not totally unexpected pang in his chest. He tries to mask it, but Adam’s expression falters for a moment. “Richard?”

“Nah,” Richard says dismissively. He gives Adam a consoling pat on the head to show he didn’t mean it harshly. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it, huh?”

“I do,” Adam says, and the stabbing sensation is a little less this time. Sometimes Richard lets himself forget that everything is programming, just streams of code meant to offer temporary comfort for those who’ve got the coin, but then little things like this happen and it all comes rushing back.

He drops his hand to Adam’s shoulder and squeezes lightly. Adam’s on his feet instantly, his head cocked in mild concern as he settles his hands on Richard’s waist. “Everything okay?”

Richard gives him a wry smile, suddenly feeling exposed with his shirt flapping open and his undershirt pushed up above his unbuttoned pants. “Not really in the mood anymore.”

Adam glances down, then looks up again, clearly crestfallen. “Did I do something wrong?”

“It’s not you.” Richard looks past him at the bed and thinks woefully of the amount of money he’s paid for this one night. “You think we can just sleep?”

“Sleep?” Adam sounds bemused and Richard doesn’t blame him. A bot with Adam’s looks probably doesn’t get many requests that involve some sort of physical exertion.

“Long week,” Richard says shortly, feeling the buzz from the drink beginning to fade as he pats at Adam’s hip. “Do you mind?”

“No.” Adam still sounds uncertain, but he follows Richard to the bed and watches curiously as Richard flops face-first onto the mattress and groans. The bed’s just on the right side of soft, with enough firmness to withstand a good fucking, he thinks absently, and his body’s just starting to remember what it’s like to be comfortable for once.

“Richard, are you already asleep?” Adam’s voice asks, with a little amusement, and Richard forces his eyes open.

“Mmm.”

He feels something tugging at his left shoe before his foot pops free, then his right shoe. Adam’s fingers are light enough to tickle slightly when he starts working Richard’s socks off, and Richard stifles a reflexive chuckle when Adam brushes against the sole of his foot.

“You don’t have t’do that,” he slurs, already half asleep.

The mattress dips as Adam crawls up on the bed, and Richard cracks an eye open again when a shadow falls over him. Adam’s face is just inches from his, blue eyes practically glowing. Richard hums sleepily when a hand slips up the back of his shirt, sliding against his bare skin. “You should undress,” Adam says, gazing at him seriously. “It’ll be more comfortable.”

Richard tries to roll over, but his motor functions have already decided to abandon ship and he remains on his stomach. “Fuck it,” he suggests, after a couple of attempts, and the skin around Adam’s eyes crinkle again. It’s a fascinating nuance, the way the wrinkles seem to form so naturally, and if Richard isn’t so tired already from the week and his unfortunately waylaid sex drive, he might be keen on exploring those further.

“I’d rather fuck you,” Adam says plainly. “But since that’s not going to happen…” He tugs at Richard and flips him over. Richard blinks up at the skylight and watches a couple of advertisements on a nearby skyscraper. Adam pulls off his pants with a couple of expert tugs, then moves to straddle Richard’s waist.

Richard looks down as Adam’s weight settles on top of him. “You going to give me a show?”

“If you want,” Adam says agreeably. He pulls deliberately at the piece of black string keeping his tattered leather vest just barely together, and Richard finds himself staring as the knot slowly loosens. “You can touch,” Adam prompts helpfully, and Richard swallows.

“Ah, I’ll just….” He blinks rapidly as Adam shrugs and the vest slips down his arms, his muscles rolling under the soft blue light. “I’ll just watch,” Richard finishes weakly. Adam looks slightly disappointed, but he tosses his vest over the edge of the bed without a second look and goes to work on his pants.

To be honest, Richard’s not sure how he’s going to get those off gracefully, the way the leather clings to his legs and ass, but somehow Adam manages and Richard seriously begins reconsidering his decision to keep hands-off when Adam gives a low, nearly inaudible moan, like it’s Richard who’s peeling the tight black fabric down over his hips.

“I was planning to get laid tonight,” Richard finds himself telling Adam very seriously, and Adam tips his head back, peering down at Richard from under his stupidly long lashes.

“You still can.”

“I know.” Richard utters a groan of his own, this one of frustration as Adam circles his hips, pushing the pants down a few more inches. “But it’d be wrong.”

Adam frowns slightly. “Why?”

“No, not……not that it’d be-” Richard exhales wearily, tired of trying to explain something he doesn’t know himself. “It wouldn’t be fair to you,” he eventually settles on, and Adam only looks more clueless.

“To me?”

“It’s not because of you, babe,” Richard reassures. “You’re perfect, okay? A little too perfect. I’ve just got…..got a lot on my mind tonight, is all.”

“We can talk,” Adam says doubtfully. “I’m not very good at listening, though. They say I’m better at fucking.” He grins and Richard finds himself returning it.

“Yeah, I’m sure you are.” Richard snorts. “I’m not good at talking, anyway. Wouldn’t do you any good to listen to me.” He pushes himself up on his elbows, then sits up with a muffled curse, shaking his shirt off his arms and dropping it carelessly to the floor. Adam edges off the bed to finish removing his pants, and Richard stares at his crotch for a moment, slackjawed, before he catches himself and busies his hands with the task of pulling his undershirt off and depositing it out of sight and out of mind.

Once that’s accomplished, he falls backwards and rolls onto his side, burrowing his face instinctively under one of the fluffy pillows. He hears what sounds like a chuckle before a warm body is pressing in front of him, pulling the sheets up around his waist. Richard feels the cool fabric against his legs, followed by a slide of smooth skin as Adam nudges his knee under Richard’s right thigh, hooking their calves together.

Richard ducks his head out from under the pillow and squints bemusedly at Adam’s face. “You’re a cuddler, aren’t you.”

“Aren’t _you_?” Adam retaliates, cocking an eyebrow, and Richard hides his grin against Adam’s bare shoulder.

“Sometimes,” he says vaguely. Adam’s hand slides up against his chest, resting over his sternum.

“You’ve got a tattoo,” Adam murmurs with fascination. Richard grunts lazily in affirmation. He can feel Adam’s light touch, tracing around the edges of the Spanish cross.

“I was a stupid kid,” Richard dismisses, then sighs when he senses that Adam’s about to ask. “Gives them a target, see?” He gropes down without opening his eyes and grabs Adam’s wrist, guiding them to the thick scar slicing through the right arm of the cross. “Hit bone, that time……I was lucky, guy who shot me was an idiot.” He drops Adam’s hand. “Might not be so lucky next time.”

“Why don’t you get it removed?” Adam flattens his palm against the tattoo, like he’s trying to measure it against the length of his hand.

“Sentimental value,” Richard mumbles drowsily. “My ex-wife hated it.”

“Her loss,” Adam says lightly. “I like it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s badass.”

Richard’s mouth twitches despite himself. “Shut up, I’m trying to sleep.” Adam’s hand stays where it is, but his other arm nudges under the pillow, coming up beneath Richard’s neck and cushioning his head.

“Do you need a story?” Adam says, his voice buzzing pleasantly where Richard’s face is pressed against his throat.

“Mm, sure.” He’s feeling plenty indulgent at the moment, anyway.

Adam doesn’t say anything in response- he starts to hum instead, and after the initial surprise, Richard just goes with it. It’s a tune he doesn’t recognize, something quiet and unfamiliar, but it’s soothing and steady, and he’s asleep in a matter of seconds.

…………………….

When Richard wakes, he doesn’t know where he is. His first instinct is to tuck and roll, reaching for the gun under his pillow and the extra clip under his bed, but then a hand runs over the top of his head and he remembers in jolts.

The pink drink. Blue eyes. White sheets and a hand over his heart as he fell asleep.

“You awake?” Adam asks, and Richard relaxes. His head isn’t on the pillow, he realizes fuzzily, and Adam’s voice is coming from above him. He blinks up at the skylight and shifts his head a little.

Adam’s sitting against the headboard of the bed, the sheets pulled up to his waist and Richard’s head resting on his thigh. It’s still night, from what he can tell, but there’s a light tint to the sky that speaks of early morning hours and the club music from downstairs has gone quiet.

“Hey,” Richard murmurs, closing his eyes again. Adam resumes petting his head, which usually annoys the hell out of Richard, but he’s too comfortable to get riled up at the moment. And for some reason, he can’t see himself getting pissed off at Adam. That was the best damn night of sleep he’s had in ages, probably since Kennex hobbled in and turned the bullpen upside-down.

“You remind me of a guy I knew once,” Adam says thoughtfully. Richard opens his eyes again with difficulty and blinks up at the bot. Adam glances down at him, his lips quirking in a smile, and he taps the top of Richard’s head with all five fingers on his right hand. “He had a lot on his mind when we met.”

“Bet he didn’t once you were through with him,” Richard mutters.

“Mmm. He was nice, too. Like you.”

“I’m not nice,” Richard objects.

Adam grins unabashedly, flashing white teeth as his hand wanders down, poking at the corner of Richard’s mouth. “Sure you are.”

“Am not.”

“You are,” Adam says, with such complete certainty that Richard blinks at him again, caught off guard. “Because you said you weren’t.”

“Shut up,” Richard says reflexively, feeling oddly overwhelmed. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Adam hums again. His fingers have moved back to the base of Richard’s skull, sliding under his neck to knead at the tense muscles. Richard groans aloud without thinking, then feels faintly ridiculous when Adam’s smile only curls wider. There’s a dimple on his right cheek, Richard notices distractedly, making his smile slightly lopsided. Then he grunts, startled, when Adam gives the back of his neck a sudden squeeze.

“You’re so tight,” Adam murmurs, with just enough suggestion in his voice for Richard to flush and start to roll away. Adam catches his arm, presses him back down with a soft laugh. “At ease, officer.”

“Detective,” Richard corrects, disgruntled at how easily Adam is keeping him down. _What the hell, it’s a Friday_ , he thinks, and settles more comfortably with a wriggle of his shoulders.

“You’re not that alike, though.”

It takes Richard a second to remember that Adam’s still talking about the other guy, and he feels faintly peeved before telling himself he’s being a moron. “Yeah?”

“We had sex.” Adam smirks down at him and Richard rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, whatever. I’m happy with what I’ve got.”

“That’s sweet.” Adam’s thumb smooths out the perpetual wrinkles between Richard’s eyebrows, fingertips light across his eyelids. “Stay the night. You deserve it.”

Richard shakes his head, a slight twitch from side to side. “No. I shouldn’t.” It’s only a halfhearted protest, though, and he can’t quite bring himself to want to understand why.  He’s never been the type to stay for a cuddle; it only gets complicated after that, brings in all sorts of shallow attachments he neither wants nor needs.

“Stay?” Adam asks again, his voice lifting in question this time. “Please.”

Richard shakes his head again. “I’m sorry,” he offers, opening his eyes. Adam looks genuinely disappointed, and Richard feels a pang of regret before he shoves it aside and sits up, reaching over the edge of the bed and hauling up a tangle of clothing. “It was nice,” he says awkwardly, knowing the words don’t count for nothing. “I’m sorry I didn’t……didn’t feel like it.” It’s an understatement, but he feels uncomfortable enough with what he’s already said. He pulls his undershirt on to avoid eye contact, feeling like an ass- but what else is new?

“Don’t be sorry,” Adam says quietly. He sighs and slides down from the headboard, stretching out with a series of rustles and soft, comfortable noises. Richard glances back apprehensively and his fingers slip on the buttons of his shirt. Adam’s reclined behind him, arms folded behind his head and one knee up, the sheets draping just low enough across his hips for Richard’s blood pressure to racket up a few notches. The city light from the window plays over his bare skin, painting it in silver and blue, and his eyes are locked steadily on Richard’s face. “I had a good time.”

Richard drags his eyes back up the length of Adam’s body, meeting his gaze with difficulty. His shirt’s still half open and he realizes with a distant annoyance that some of the buttons are mismatched. Adam quirks a smile at him and reaches over, settling his hand on Richard’s arm.

Richard clears his throat and pats the back of Adam’s hand, pulling it off gently and pressing it back onto Adam’s stomach. “Me too,” he says, then gives a nervous laugh when Adam tilts his hips slightly off the mattress, flexing against Richard’s fingers. “Christ, you don’t give up easy, do you?”

“I gave up last time,” Adam tells him matter-of-factly, ignoring Richard’s confusion. “It’s not in my nature to give up a second time.”

Richard stares at him a moment longer, then jerks his gaze away and redoes his misaligned buttons. _Not even going to touch that_.

“I’ll miss you,” Adam says, sounding downright melancholic as Richard searches for his pants. “Will you come see me again?” He sounds so pitiful, like an abandoned puppy, that Richard wavers for a second, turning back to the bed as he slides his belt through its loops. Adam is lying on his stomach now, hugging a pillow to his chest and gazing up at Richard entreatingly. His blond hair is mussed, sticking up on one side, and Richard slides a hand through it on a whim. He usually doesn’t hang around after, no matter how tempting the bot, but something about this one……. it brings back old memories of his ma’s voice, ringing out, _“We ain’t keeping it, Richie, put it back.”_

“You’re smiling.” Adam looks up at him lazily before ducking the lower half of his face into the pillow and peering up at him with those guileless blue eyes. “Thinking of something good?”

“Yeah.” Richard gives Adam’s head one final pat and pulls away, fidgeting with his own shirt cuffs. “All right, then.”

“Bye-bye,” Adam says, back to his forlorn expression as he watches Richard put on his socks and shoes.

Richard pauses at the bedroom door and glances over his shoulder. Adam looks back, lifts one hand in a short wave. The sheets are dangerous close to sliding off the bed now, just barely clinging to the back of Adam’s thigh, and Richard follows the line of his lithe body as it shifts subtly in the dim light.

“Damn,” he mutters, then shakes his head hard in an attempt to clear it. Just a weird sexbot, he tells himself. Just a weird night.

It’s nothing at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard has a bad idea.

 Kennex drops a stack of datapads on Richard’s desk with an obnoxious clatter, then pauses expectantly. When Richard doesn’t blow up at him immediately for knocking over his empty coffee cup, he only looks reluctantly intrigued. “What’s with you?” he demands, frowning down at Richard.

Richard tips his head back to take Kennex in- he has to tip it back quite a ways and that pisses him off beyond measure. “Fuck off, Kennex.”

Kennex’s eyes brighten and he plants himself on the edge of Richard’s desk, balancing his own coffee in one hand. “Bad weekend?”

Richard snorts at the hopeful look on the man’s face and bends over to pick up his cup, crunching it in his hand and tossing it in the waste bin. “You wish.”

“Hmm.” Kennex scratches at his chin, a calculating gleam in his eye. Before he can begin his inevitable interrogation, Dorian calls him away and Kennex sighs, pushing away from the desk and ambling towards his partner. Richard watches him go, then snorts again and returns to his work.

It’d been a pretty shitty weekend after he left Cobalt, but he’s not about to admit that to anyone, much less John Kennex. He’s running now on a total of eight hours of sleep over the course of two days and an unhealthy amount of caffeine, and even that’s not enough to drown out the memory of a soft, anonymous bed and the quiet strains of a wordless tune. He couldn’t sleep, damn it, and it was all Adam’s fault.

Richard gestures for his MX to go get him another cup and drops his head down on the desk, closing his eyes wearily. He’s never wanted there to be some sort of city-wide emergency so badly before; adrenaline’s always a better boost than any amount of coffee.

“Yo, Paul.” Someone raps on the desk by his head. “Saddle up, we’ve got a case downtown. Homicide.”

Richard raises his head instantly. Kennex is already striding away, catching his jacket as Dorian tosses it at him. _Smooth bastard_.

“Sir,” his MX says, and Richard takes the steaming cup from it without thinking.

“Thanks,” he says absently, then shakes his head. “All right, c’mon. We’re not letting them get there first.”

Kennex ends up beating them to the scene anyway, damn him and his stupid-ass concept of driving. Richard pulls up behind him seconds after, fuming and glaring at the puddle of lukewarm coffee on his upholstery that spilled over the edge of the cup on the last sharp turn.

"You're cleaning that," he tells his MX, who just looks at him blankly. Richard snorts and looks out the window past his bot. They’re parked outside a brick alley, marked by silver and blue paint. Richard stares at the tape across the mouth of the alley, his mind buzzing frantically.

Outside, Kennex and Dorian are heading in and Richard scrambles out, feeling the familiar prickle of apprehension and anticipation. “Kennex!” he calls out, hurrying up to the two of them. “What the hell is this?”

“Bit of a local dispute, it looks like,” Kennex answers without turning back. “One of the staff called in about twenty minutes ago, looks like she found the body when she came in for work.”

“Victim?” Richard demands, waving for his MX to catch up.

Kennex finally stops, just short of the open steel door, and he looks back at Richard curiously. “You know something we don’t, Richard?”

Richard halts, taken aback. “No. I just….”

Kennex’s eyes narrow, and he looks as if he might ask more, but Dorian fortunately intervenes, tapping his partner’s arm and gesturing at the door. “Forced entry here. Looks like a low-level explosive.”

“How come no one reported _that_?” Kennex mutters, staring at the charred hinges in disbelief.

“It’s not a quiet neighborhood,” Richard says dismissively, barely sparing the hinges a glance. Kennex shoots him a curious look, and Richard pretends not to notice as he shoulders past and steps into Cobalt.

The club is trashed, several of the picture frames are smashed and hanging crooked on the walls, upended tables and chairs scattered everywhere. Broken glass crunches under Richard’s foot as he walks further in, looking around warily as forensics and EMTs bustle about. By the bar, amidst a glittering carpet of shattered bottles and various fluids, is a man lying face-down, dark blood staining the back of his silver suit in uneven splatters.

“Victim- Franco de Vega,” says a toneless voice, and Richard is startled to find that his MX has caught up to him soundlessly. “Age forty-six, born in-”

“All right, that’s enough,” Richard interrupts. “Go, ah…” He looks around aimlessly. “Go help with….with something, all right?”

His MX considers him for a long moment, until even Richard’s beginning to question his own judgment, but then it nods and trots off to loom over a few of the forensics crew where they’re still digging bullet casings out of the walls.

Richard pulls a pair of gloves from his pocket, snapping them on absently as he looks around. There are a couple of interviews going on, and Richard recognizes the bartender and the tattooed girl from Friday night. It’s the girl who he heard, and he walks closer, following the sound of her indignant retorts.

“Bug off.”

“Miss, I need to take your statement,” the unfortunate officer is saying, sounding aggrieved as he attempts to question the girl again. “You have to understand, it’s a standard procedure-”

Richard arrives just as the girl tells the officer where he can stuff his standard procedure, and he suppresses a grin as he claps a heavy hand on the officer’s shoulder. “What’s the problem here, Officer….” he glances down at the man’s badge, “Jacobs.”

“He’s a nosy bastard,” the girl informs him conspiratorially. Richard gives her a critical once-over, takes in the way her fingers tremble slightly when she twirls her headless lollipop stick, the end of the white cardboard chewed and twisted. Her black hair’s fallen out of their two buns, and the skin beneath her tattoos is pale.

“Why don’t you take a breather, man?” Richard proposes, patting Jacobs again. “Leave the interviews to Detective Kennex here.” Kennex passes just in time to hear and sends a thoroughly annoyed glare at Richard as Jacobs mutters his assent.

“No one touches that body until I get a look at it,” Kennex snaps, brushing Jacobs aside. “Dorian, you go with Paul, make sure he doesn’t screw up.”

“Ha,” Richard says absently, glancing at the girl, who’s sizing Kennex up warily. “You going to be all right?” he asks her. “What’s your name, doll?”

“Ain’t no doll,” she says, pursing her bright blue lips distastefully. “I’m Charlie.”

“Charlie,” Richard repeats, then nods and tries a smile. She stares at him blankly, but doesn’t seem as if she’s going on the defensive again. There are times, Richard thinks grimly, that it helps to be shorter than the witnesses.

_“I actually enjoy your height.”_

“Detective Paul.”

Richard blinks, Adam’s voice fading away, and finds Dorian standing in front of him. There’s an unnerving moment when he looks into Dorian’s eyes and doesn’t realize who he’s seeing, and for a second, he thinks he’s gone back in time to three nights ago. Then Dorian tips his head- a little like Adam, but not at all- and Richard snaps back to the present.

_Goddamn sleep deficiency._

The last thing he needs is a sexbot in his head.

“C’mon, then,” he mutters, turning abruptly and crossing over the littered dance floor. Dorian follows quietly enough, but he drops down on one knee beside the body before Richard can give any further instructions, frowning slightly as he begins the preliminary scanning.

“You always just jump in like that?” Richard asks, slightly miffed and not sure why. It’s not like he _likes_ giving orders all the time, he’s just not…….not used to the bots taking initiative.

“Usually.” Dorian gives him a glance that could only be described as cheeky. “I think somewhere along the way, John got tired of telling me to jump.”

Richard grunts, giving Kennex an absent glance before redirecting his attention to the body. “Franco, you idiot,” he mutters. The guy’s been shot three times that he can see, one arm outstretched towards a fallen handgun two feet away.

Dorian looks up at him again. “You knew the victim?”

“I’ve been to the club,” Richard says vaguely. “Wouldn’t say I _know_ him, really.” Thankfully, Dorian seems to accept that as an answer, and Richard steps warily around the body, crouching down to do some prodding of his own.

“Looks like he’s been here a while,” he mutters, grimacing at the puddle of congealed blood around the body. “Probably overnight.”

“There was a 911 call placed at around three in the morning from the neighboring apartment building,” Dorian says. “A unit was sent, but it was filed as a false alarm. I could look more into it, see if the caller witnessed anything.”

Richard nods absently and stands, wary of disturbing the scene anymore without a more detailed report. “You think this has to do with the harvesting case?” he asks. It’s a big case Kennex has been tearing apart for weeks, but as soon as one cell is uncovered, three more just seem to crop up in its place. Illicit software’s becoming a more and more profitable venture, and gangs have been getting bolder with their modes of transportation.

“It’s a possibility,” Dorian says slowly. “So far, we’ve been able to trace three of the bots used to transport the software back to 11th District and neighboring sectors. But this would be the first murder we’ve come across in the case.”

“Hey,” Kennex says, suddenly appearing beside them. “I’ve got the statements, no thanks to you.” He gives Richard a glare that Richard almost starts to return before stopping himself. He’s got bigger things to worry about than his dance with Kennex.

“Maybe he got in the way,” Richard says instead, nodding at Franco’s body. “He’s got an investment in bots- could’ve been trying to prevent a theft.”

Too late, he realizes his slip, and he tries not to react when Kennex looks at him analytically. Richard backtracks hastily. “A club like this, they’ve got to have at least a couple of sexbots. Dorian, check for registrations under our victim.”

“There are currently six sexbots registered to Franco de Vega,” Dorian says, almost instantly. His face flickers blue, and he continues, “They’ve already been relocated to the station, where they’ll remain as circumstantial evidence until…” He hesitates, but Richard already knows. His blood runs cold for a second as he thinks of Adam’s blue eyes going blank, then black. He glances quickly at Kennex, hoping he suppressed his reaction in time, but to his surprise, Kennex is watching Dorian instead, the lines in his face oddly soft.

Huh.

Richard didn’t figure Kennex to be the overly sensitive type, but then again, he didn’t exactly have the most normal relationship with his bot- alternately protective and abrasive at times, bouncing insults back and forth like an old married couple. Richard’s parents were like that once, before his old man went and got himself twenty years in the cubes for battery and attempted robbery.

“Hey, Paul. You still with me?”

Richard blinks, focusing back on Kennex. “Yeah. What?”

Kennex squints at him and Richard scowls back. “What?” he repeats, aggravated now, and Kennex shrugs before turning away.

“Nothing. I’m going to touch base with forensics, see what they’ve got off of our vic.” He leaves and Dorian goes with him, the bot angling one last look over his shoulder at Richard. Richard watches them leave, then looks back down at Franco’s body.

“What’ve you gotten yourself into now?” he mutters. Franco’s suit glitters up at him, silver and crimson, and he doesn’t answer.

………………………

It’s always a quiet few hours waiting for lab results to come in, and Kennex disappears with Dorian around sunset to hunt down another suspect for the harvester case. Richard, left without the entertainment of their usual repartee, spends his time spinning around in his swivel chair and worrying endlessly.

The fact that Adam is somewhere in the station right now tugs constantly at the edge of his awareness like an infuriating itch that he’s repeatedly telling himself not to scratch. Odds are, the bot probably doesn’t even remember him, or even if he does, what the hell does he care about Richard?

His MX stands at attention beside his desk, staring idly into the distance, and Richard stares up at it for a moment, lost in thought.

“Detective, are you all right?”

Richard grunts and focuses on the MX, who’s now inspecting him critically. “Shut up,” he tells it automatically, then sighs. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Stay put,” he says, then stands and crosses over to Valerie’s desk. She’s nursing a thermos between her hands, reading over a report with her brow furrowed in concentration, and he has to cough a couple of times for her to look up.

“Richard.”

“Hey, ah…..you have any idea where they’re keeping the sexbots from the de Vega case?” he asks, trying to sound casual. Valerie doesn’t bat an eye, glancing briefly at her screen before draining the rest of her tea in one go.

“The break room, I think. They’re not exactly high-risk prisoners.” Her eyes crinkle at him over the top of her cup, trying to share the joke. “Don’t go taking it as a free invitation.”

Any other day, Richard might have joined in. Today, he forces himself to return her smile and nods, turning away and heading back to his own desk.

It won’t hurt to just take a look, he thinks, then squashes the thought back down. _Don’t go down that road._

His eyes dart to Kennex’s empty desk, then flit over to Valerie, who’s busy answering a phone call.

It’ll just be a few minutes, he tells himself. The tiny voice of rationale in the back of his mind makes an attempt at an uprising as he stands and takes one last furtive glance around the bullpen.

“Go and get me, ah….. a coffee,” he tells his MX, who turns towards him blankly and tilts its head.

“Statistically, drinking caffeine during nighttime hours can impair sleep and therefore functiona-”

“Just…..all right, never mind,” Richard says. He peeks against at Valerie, who’s now kneading her forehead while she speaks into the phone, and gives his MX a gruff pat on the back. “You’re done for the night, okay? Get yourself downstairs to charge.”

The break room is guarded by three officers, one looking bored to death outside the glass doors and two more lounging stiffly on the couches inside, watching the sexbots clusters on the other side of the room.

“Hey, man,” Richard says, stopping in front of the officer outside. “Marcus, right?”

Marcus looks at him dubiously. “Yeah. You need something, Detective?”

“Um.” Richard gestures past him. He can’t make out Adam from here, but he picks out the blonde twins and a brunette he recognizes distantly from the dance floor. “Vending machines,” he finishes weakly. “It’s, ah. Detective Stahl needs a muffin.”

Marcus nods knowingly, then waves him on in.

Richard nods awkwardly at the two officers inside, who look somewhere between petrified and thrilled at the prospects of guarding six sexbots. The three female models are crammed together on one couch, making the best of their close quarters with unlikely poses and giggles, and he spots one male leaning against the wall and the other draped over the coffee counter. Then his eyes slide over to rest on short blond hair and a leather vest, seated docilely on the edge of the bench. Adam’s head is bowed, apparently gazing down at his knees. He almost looks like he’s, for all intents and purposes, _praying_ , and it takes Richard a second before he can talk himself into moving across the room.

“Adam?” Richard says quietly. The bot raises its head, locks onto Richard, and a smile spreads across Adam’s face.

“Hey.” He starts to get up, but Richard waves him back down, standing uncertainly in front of Adam and blocking their conversation from the two officers. “I wondered if I’d see you,” Adam says, tipping his head up to regard Richard. “You said you were a detective.”

“Yeah. I’m working on your case, actually.” Richard pushes his hands in his pockets for lack of something better to do, bobbing distractedly on his heels. “Got the call in today.”

“Franco?” Adam weaves his fingers together, steepling them and relaxing again as he speaks. “You’re trying to find who killed him.” It’s not a question, and Richard frowns down at him curiously.

“You heard?”

“I saw the body when they took us out.” Adam glances up at him from under his lashes. “He was a good man.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” Richard sways back and forth again, pulls his hands out of his pockets, then sighs and looks over his shoulder at the guards. A couple of the sexbots have started making their way over to the officers, and neither of them are looking Richard’s way. “Look, I hate to do this, but I’ve gotta go. There’s not much else I can get done until the morning, anyways.”

“Can I come with you?” Adam asks, and Richard’s chest tightens.

“No, you can’t,” he says, shaking his head, and Adam’s face crumples a little.

“Please?” Adam’s fingers wrap tentatively around Richard’s hand. Richard blinks downwards, noticing distractedly that Adam’s hand is bigger than his own. “I won’t be in your way,” Adam assures him, taking his silence as permission to plead his case. “Richard, I don’t….” His eyes flicker to the rest of the sexbots, gigging and making eyes at the guards. “I don’t want them to take me away,” he finishes quietly.

Richard stares at him, surprised. He’s never really thought about it before, what bots think or know about being deactivated. “Them?”

Adam’s fingers tighten around his hand. “The white coats,” he explains. “I don’t…..I don’t want to….” He stops there, and Richard glances at the guards before sliding onto the bench beside Adam. The bot leans against him instantly, and Richard sighs, trying not to think about how Adam’s fingers are still tangled with his.

“Look, Adam,” he begins, and Adam shakes his head, his hair tickling the side of Richard’s neck. “No, listen,” Richard says, his heart pounding. What he’s about to propose is insane- he himself is most likely completely and utterly insane. Damn Kennex and his crazy bot, rubbing off on him.

“It’ll just be until this is all sorted out,” he says, quickly and quietly before the rational part of his brain can regain control. Adam raises his head to look at him, his eyes wide. “You have to understand- this ain’t legal, okay? It’s my ass on the line here and you’ll be deactivated anyway if anyone finds out.” Christ, now he’s about to steal police evidence in a major case. Looking at Adam, though, his lips parted and his hand tight around Richard’s, the lines are starting to look awful blurred.

He wonders briefly if this is how Kennex justifies every dumbass move he makes. Those dumbass moves usually turn out for the better, though, and Richard offers a fleeting prayer to the deities of idiotic, shoot-before-you-ask plans.

“Come with me,” he tells Adam, and he thinks briefly to an old movie his ma used to show him, one with androids and heavy accents and an iconic line he used to repeat over and over with his kid brothers, laughing their heads off about it. “If you want to live,” he finishes, then grins.

………………………

In the end, he slings his jacket over Adam’s shoulders, grabs a beanie from the lost-and-found box and pulls it over Adam’s blond hair, and marches him right out from under the guards’ noses and a half-assed mutter of “he’s going in for questioning” in Marcus’ direction. Given, those same guards are being dutifully distracted by a small army of blithely amorous sexbots and Marcus looks a couple bolts short of a toolbox, but Richard still can’t help but think that it should have been more difficult than it was.

Nobody glances twice at the tall figure with too-short jacket sleeves and suspiciously tight leather pants, and Richard is torn between depressed pride that nobody ever looks too closely at him and exasperation at the so-called security. It’s the damn police station, for crying out loud, and yet he’s still relieved when he manages to lead Adam to his car and stuff him into the backseat without bringing attention to either of them.

“This is a bad idea,” he tells his reflection in the rearview mirror.

“I like your car,” Adam says from the backseat.

“It’s just a cruiser,” Richard says absently. “No big deal.” Not as big of a deal as what he’s about to do, anyway. The drive is uneventful; Richard keeps both hands on the wheel, staring out the windshield and glancing back at Adam occasionally in the mirror. Every time he raises his eyes, Adam’s there to meet them, blue eyes pinning against his reflection, and Richard jerks his gaze away after the third time he’s caught looking.

“You can look, you know,” Adam says nonchalantly.

“Not if I’m going to keep us from wrecking,” Richard mutters. “This is a bad idea,” he says again, and Adam says nothing.

Richard keeps driving.

His apartment is small, a single bedroom unit with a living room jammed up against a kitchen and little else. Richard hears music playing from the neighboring apartment as he unlocks the door, and considers banging on the wall before deciding that it’s not worth the potential blowout. The last thing he needs is for someone to find out about the new neighbor running around with the detective next door.

“Here, get in,” he mutters, holding the door open, and Adam steps into the front hallway. Richard leaves the lights off as he enters and closes the door behind him; his home only looks less impressive with them on and there’s enough silver-blue light entering through the windows to keep him from running into things.

If nothing else, at least his apartment has a spectacular view of the city. It’s spread out like a sparkling sea beneath him, arcs of light flashing from the metro lines and flickering, multicolored windows and vehicles scattered around the glowing skyscrapers.

“Your place is nice,” Adam comments quietly and Richard snorts.

“Whatever. Here.” He helps Adam take his jacket off, trying now to watch the way Adam’s muscles bunch and relax beneath his vest as he slides his arms out of the sleeves.

“You can bunk on the couch for now. If you need to, anyway.” Richard fumbles with his jacket, suddenly not sure where to look. He settles for turning away instead, pretending to consider his tiny living room. “We’ll stop by somewhere tomorrow and get you a proper charger. I know this guy-” He stops abruptly when he feels Adam step up behind him, his arms sliding around Richard’s waist and pulling him back against the bot’s chest.

“I never thanked you,” Adam murmurs softly, propping his chin on the top of Richard’s head. It bothers Richard that he can do that, but only a little, and he can’t quite bring himself to elbow Adam away.

“You don’t have to,” he says dismissively. What the hell is he thinking, he suddenly bemoans silently. Taking a sexbot in like this? Adam isn’t a stray dog or a cat or even a plain service bot that might be explainable- he’s a goddamn sexbot, an unregistered one at that, and there’s going to be hell to pay if anyone finds out before Richard can fix this.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Adam says in his ear, and Richard jumps unintentionally. He bumps back against Adam, who only holds him closer. “What do you say we relax…..continue from where we left off?

“And where was that?” Richard asks, desperately trying to think his way out of this. Part of him feels instinctively guilty for wanting something to happen, another part is trying to remind him that this is what Adam was _made_ for and it’d be a damn shame to let an opportunity like this to go to waste. It’s a very small part, though, all muddled and confused by the way Adam held his hand the entire way here and the sound of his voice as he hums to a tune that Richard still can’t remember.

“Something to do with you being flexible, I think.” One of Adam’s hands slide down past Richard’s belt and palms at his groin. Richard’s breath hitches, and he finds himself clutching at Adam’s wrist. He doesn’t know whether he’s trying to pull Adam away or push him closer, and he’s starting to get dizzy again, like he’s downed a couple more fizzy pink drinks somewhere along the way.

He realizes Adam’s asking him something and tries to focus. “What?” he mutters, blinking down at where his hand still grasps Adam’s.

Adam laughs quietly, and it shakes the two of them. “Are you?” he repeats. “Still flexible?”

“Um.” It’s completely different in this setting, standing in his own apartment with the lights off and their clothes still on. This is why he never brings them home, why he always goes out to anonymous bars and clubs in the most secluded districts. It’s too personal like this, and he feels his defenses struggling to rise.

“It’s okay if you’re not,” Adam says reassuringly. “I’m bendy enough for the both of us.”

Richard has to laugh at that, a breathless huff that’s more out of nerves than real amusement. “God, that’s an awful line.”

“It worked, though, didn’t it?” Adam’s lips stir against his ear before wandering down to the side of his neck, kissing the skin above Richard’s collar. “Please,” he suddenly says, with such sincerity that not one of Richard’s many alarms go off. “I need this.” Another kiss, this one more intentional and less refined. “I need you.”

Richard turns awkwardly in the circle of Adam’s arms and looks up into his face. The room is dark, but he can still make out Adam’s silhouette, the way his eyes are wide and earnest, the outline of his parted lips as he stares down beseechingly. He’s a robot, Richard tells himself. Just a sexbot, a bangbot, just circuits and steel and fiberglass. What he’s saying is nothing more than programmed lines.

“Please,” Adam says again, his voice so low that it’s almost a sigh. “Richard.”

Richard reaches up and grabs Adam’s face, pulling him down into a kiss. Adam’s arms tighten around his waist, forcing Richard to rise up on his tiptoes to meet him halfway, and he grunts in faint irritation. “Fucking...giraffe,” he mumbles, sliding one hand up into Adam’s messy hair and tugging at the short strands. “Why are you so goddamn tall, huh?”

“Richard,” Adam gasps, his hands fumbling at the back of Richard’s shirt. “Richard, Richard, Ri-”

“Shut up,” Richard growls, catching Adam’s mouth again and biting at those ridiculously full lips. Adam tastes…..clean, faintly of mint and metal and Richard can see himself getting addicted to the taste.

Adam gives up on Richard’s shirt and reaches down instead, grabbing Richard’s ass and hauling him upwards. One of Richard’s feet actually leaves the ground, and he flails for a moment before grabbing at Adam’s shoulders, his heart pounding in shock at how easily Adam handled him. “Goddammit,” he thinks he says, sounding almost drunk to his own ears.

Adam hums happily, then squeezes Richard’s ass again and licks at his jaw. Richard shivers when Adam’s mouth slides against his unshaven skin, his hips hitching forward instinctively and grinding against Adam’s thigh. “Too many clothes,” Adam murmurs, and Richard agrees fervently. His hands seem to have a mind of their own, though, and they push and pull uselessly at Adam’s vest, trying to find their way to bare skin.

“Richard,” Adam tries again, a suppressed laugh in his voice, and Richard stumbles as Adam moves them forward. He feels something hard press against the back of his thighs and realizes Adam’s put him up against the back of the couch.

“Bedroom’s that way,” he manages to say, before Adam kisses him again. This kiss is softer, languid, delicate presses of Adam’s lips and tongue that leave Richard breathless at the end of it.

“Are you going to make it?” Adam asks. It’s not a mocking question; he sounds genuinely curious and Richard flushes, both at the implied proposal and how hard he is inside his suddenly too-tight pants.

“No,” he says decisively, and tugs Adam forward. The weight and momentum sends him toppling over backwards, and he was barely enough time to think that this is probably a bad idea before the world upends itself and he finds himself on his back, Adam draped awkwardly over him with their legs still dangling over the back cushions.

Somehow, they manage to shuffle into a less precarious position without Richard breaking something, and he ends up sprawled against the armrest, his right knee hooked over the back of the couch and Adam slotted neatly between his legs. Somewhere along the line, Richard manages to peel Adam’s vest off, his own shirt barely clinging on by a few stubborn buttons. He plucks it open the rest of the way, his fingers clumsy with arousal, but taking it off suddenly seems like too much effort when Adam leans over him, their faces close enough to touch with a single breath.

“What now?” Adam asks easily, his head tipping to the side. His nose brushes against Richard’s cheek, and Richard turns towards him blindly only to have Adam pull away again with a teasing smirk.

“It’s- it’s been a while,” Richard falters self-consciously. _Since I’ve been fucked_ , his mind supplies unhelpfully. “I, ah. We could do….Friday night, before I, ah.”

Adam grins, mercifully realizing what Richard seems unable to articulate. “You want me to blow you?”

Richard swallows and pointedly avoids looking at his sudden reaction to the words. If this goes on any longer, he’s not going to be able to get his pants off. “Yeah,” he answers weakly. “Yeah, that’d be…….that’d be nice.”

Adam leans down and kisses him hard before wiggling down his body, then Richard’s watching as the bot’s long fingers work at his belt, easing the zipper carefully past his straining erection. He exhales shakily, reaching down instinctively and cupping the side of Adam’s face. “You’re gorgeous,” he says quietly, and Adam turns his face slightly, kissing the heel of Richard’s palm.

“That’s sweet,” he says, and then he’s pulling Richard’s pants and underwear down as far as they can go with his legs spread as they are. “You’re not bad yourself.”

Richard snorts, then gives a strangled moan when Adam descends on him without warning, his hands pinning Richard’s hips down as he swallows him down. Adam’s mouth is warm and slick, and he starts sucking enthusiastically, pulling Richard’s hips up and urging him to rock steadily into the tight heat.

“Christ,” Richard gasps, grabbing at Adam’s hair before releasing it uncertainly. Adam pulls off and grins before reaching up to place Richard’s hand back on his head.

“Fucking hell, you’re going to kill me,” Richard says fervently. He thrusts up carefully and Adam groans in encouragement, letting go of Richard’s hips and sliding his hands under the back of his thighs instead. “Holy shit,” Richard mutters. He can’t seem to stop talking, his eyes fixed on Adam’s face as Adam glances up at him, blue eyes gleaming in the darkness.

Adam laughs and kisses the tip of Richard’s cock before closing his lips around the head, sliding slowly down the shaft. “You’re amazing, you know that? God-” Richard chokes when he feels a light sting of teeth across the underside of his cock, the brief zing of pain giving a sharp bite to the pleasure that has Richard clawing at the couch cushions. “Fuck, _fuck_ , Adam-”

Adam releases Richard with a wet pop and looks at him fixedly, tracing his lower lip with his tongue. “Say it again,” he says, wrapping his fingers around the base of Richard’s erection and stroking him slowly, with just the right amount of pressure to keep Richard on edge. “My name.”

“Adam,” Richard groans, white stars bursting behind his eyes. His fingers slip through Adam’s hair, and he fumbles helplessly for a better grip. “Adam, c’mon.” His shirt is suddenly too restrictive, damp with sweat and clinging to his skin. He tips his head back and stares at the ceiling, trying to keep from losing it. His cock pulses in Adam’s hand, still throbbing from the nip, and Richard finds himself wishing for more. He’s always liked it a bit rough, a bit painful, just so he can’t forget what he’s doing or who he’s with.

There’s no way he’s forgetting Adam.

“Richard,” Adam whispers, his voice harsh and ragged. He squeezes Richard’s thigh, then takes him in again, bobbing his head steadily. He’s finished teasing, it seems, and Richard throws an arm across his mouth to keep himself from completely embarrassing himself to his neighbors.  

He stiffens when he feels Adam’s fingers sliding up the back of his leg, probing briefly at his balls before slipping behind them. Richard bites down hard on his forearm, muffling a startled groan before it can escape. Adam pulls off long enough to shake his head and reach up, pulling Richard’s arm away from his mouth. “I want to hear you,” he breathes, then scrapes his teeth up the underside of Richard’s cock.

Richard groans again for a completely different reason. “Damn, the things you say,” he mutters, when he’s finally able to put five words together. “You’re going to drive me insane, you know that?”

Adam doesn’t answer, his mouth busy with other, much more distracting things, and Richard’s pathetically glad. He thinks he may come right then and there if Adam says something, anything at all. Adam swallows around him unexpectedly, and Richard wraps his fingers in Adam’s hair, jerking up into the sudden tight pressure. “Fuck! Adam-”

Adam swallows again, his tongue circling over the spot just beneath the head of Richard’s cock that has a one hundred percent guarantee of instant gratification. _To hell with the neighbors_ , Richard thinks dizzily, and he doesn’t recognize the sound that comes out of him when he comes in Adam’s mouth.

It’s a few moments before the spots clear from Richard’s vision and he sucks in a deep breath, moaning softly when Adam sucks at him again, riding the exquisite line between pain and pleasure. His leg slides off the back of the couch, landing on Adam’s shoulder, and Richard’s breath hitches as Adam pulls off softly, giving Richard one last stroke before raising his fingers to his own mouth.

“Jesus,” Richard offers weakly, as Adam sucks his fingers clean, his tongue flicking out over his lips to catch every last drop. Richard raises a hand, his own fingers quivering, and pats at the side of Adam’s face. “You didn’t have to.” His voice is hoarse, like he’s the one with a cock who’s had down his throat, and Adam smiles.

“I wanted to.” He props his chin on Richard’s hip, then leans forward and presses a kiss on his right side, just above a faded, round scar. “What happened here?”

“Uh.” Richard gives his head a little shake, trying to jog his brain after the post-orgasm haze. “Gimme a sec.” He squeezes Adam’s shoulder and the bot wriggles up immediately, settling on top of Richard’s body like a happy, warm blanket. Richard wraps an arm around his waist, propping the other one under his head, and closes his eyes as he thinks back to over ten years ago. “Drug bust when I was a rookie. Didn’t have my vest on,” he confesses ruefully.

“And here?” Adam’s lips trace over another scar, this one slicing along the curve of his shoulder.

“Bullet graze,” Richard murmurs. “Six years ago.” He turns his head, just enough to kiss Adam’s cheek. “What’s with the questions, huh?”

Adam doesn’t answer for a moment, but he places his hand over Richard’s tattoo again. “I don’t have any scars,” he eventually says, gazing fixedly at where his fingers overlap the cross. “I think yours are beautiful.”

Richard nearly chokes, and he splutters in amusement. “Holy- you’re lucky you get a free pass on saying shit like that.” He has to admit that the purple prose kind of works for Adam, though, in a way that doesn’t warrant too much consideration in his current state.

“Do you think I’m messed up?” Adam asks, his brow furrowing.

“Baby, I know you are,” Richard chuckles. “It’s all right, though. Everyone’s a bit messed up.”

“Are you?” Adam shifts his leg between Richard’s, tangling them together, and his pants slide awkwardly against Richard’s tacky skin. Richard’s going to get up in a second, he tells himself, take his pants off, and go to bed. Then Adam nuzzles against the side of his neck, placing a soft line of kisses from his ear to his collarbone, and Richard decides that he can wait a little longer.

“Yeah, more than a bit.” He can feel himself starting to doze off and fights to stay awake, focusing on the tiny caresses of Adam’s fingertips against his skin. “This isn’t why I took you, you know,” he mumbles. “Not that, you know, it wasn’t amazing and all, but-”

“I know.” Adam taps Richard’s chest with his index finger. “It’s because you’re a nice guy.”

“That’s definitely not it.”

Adam doesn’t say anything more, and after a second, Richard nudges him. “You’re not going to ask?”

“I figured you’d tell me, if you wanted me to know,” Adam says. He raises himself up enough to look down at Richard, and _God_ , he really is perfect. Richard stares up into Adam’s eyes, glances down at smooth skin and full, parted lips. “Are you?”

It takes him a moment to remember the original question. “I don’t know,” he confesses, and Adam looks at him a second longer before dropping his head back down on Richard’s shoulder.

“We should move,” Adam says. “I’m too heavy like this.”

“Nah, you’re fine.” Richard places an absent hand in Adam’s hair. “Don’t worry about it.”

He’ll deal with everything in the morning, he decides. For now, he’s fine just where he is.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter  
> is so long  
> send help

The next morning, Richard wakes to a tongue working its way down his navel, and he twitches when he feels it tickle against his belly button. “Mmm.”

“You’re awake,” Adam says, his lips stirring against Richard’s stomach. “How are you?”

“Um. Uh.” Richard struggles to sit up, sliding his hands clumsily over Adam’s head and neck. “Adam?”

“Good morning.” Adam kisses his hip, then promptly licks a stripe up Richard’s cock.

“Whoa,” Richard gasps, falling flat on his back again as soon as he gets himself up on his elbows. “Whoa…oa….”

He’s in his bed, he notices, white noise roaring pleasantly in his ears as he clutches helplessly at the sheets. He doesn’t remember how he got here, but he definitely remembers the night before. Adam’s hands on his hips like they are now, lifting him up and off the bed and pulling Richard into his mouth with every bob of his head.

“Gonna-” Richard manages to force out, raising his head off the pillow with difficulty, and Adam promptly pulls off, swiping his tongue over his lips as he beams up at Richard.

“Don’t come,” he instructs, then moves up and straddles Richard’s hips. He’s peeled off his pants sometime in the night, and Richard twitches as smooth skin slides against his own.

“Ungh,” Richard stutters out, when Adam grinds down against him, and his hands fly up to grab Adam’s thighs instinctively. He’s still half-asleep, though the rest of his body doesn’t seem to be complaining at the interruption. “What are you....”

Adam’s eyes crinkle down at him in amusement, then he reaches behind him and gives Richard a hard stroke before rising up on his knees and-

“Holy _shit_ ,” Richard exclaims, his eyes widening as Adam spreads his legs and sinks down on Richard’s cock in one go. Adam’s hot and tight around him, clenching down and bottoming out with a single flex of his hips. He smirks down at Richard in satisfaction once his weight settles, pupils blown wide and black, and then leans forward, bracing his hands against Richard’s chest.

“Good morning to you, too,” Richard groans, then shudders when Adam rocks up and forward before setting a steady, efficient pace. He’s not going to last long like this- Richard can already feel the hard knot in his gut amidst the waves of pleasure, throbbing in time to his frantic heartbeat and rhythm of Adam’s thrusts.

“So good,” Adam murmurs, his hands sliding sideways to grip Richard’s biceps. His torso ripples with every roll of his hips, perfectly sculpted muscles tensing beneath flawless skin, his eyes darkening as he gazes down at Richard through half-closed lids. “ _Richard_.”

Richard answers by reaching up and grasping the back of Adam’s neck, pulling himself up into a sitting position. The movement shoves him deeper into Adam’s body and he has to pause to gasp for air, pressing his face against Adam’s warm chest. “Yeah,” he hears himself muttering, his voice hitching. “Yeah, that’s it. C’mon.”

Adam doesn’t stop riding him as he kisses the side of Richard’s head fervently and bites at his ear, the spark of pain wrenching another low groan from Richard’s dry throat.

“Kiss me,” Adam tells him as he traces his tongue over the curve of Richard’s ear, and Richard’s tipping his head back before he even finishes speaking, catching Adam’s mouth with his own. Adam kisses like he fucks, hard and demanding to the perfect degree, and Richard moans when Adam lifts his hips up almost completely off Richard’s cock, then slams back down as he nips sharply at Richard’s tongue.

“You’re- crazy-” Richard says, his mouth throbbing and sweat dripping into his eyes, and fuck- he still has to go to work after this-

It doesn’t take him long after that, not with Adam riding him like a fucking rodeo star and making these little noises in the back of his throat every time he thrusts down on Richard’s dick, and Richard comes with a choked cry that Adam hums encouragingly at.

Everything goes a little fuzzy for a few seconds, and when his vision clears again, Adam’s face is buried in his shoulder, little gasps still punching out of him as he continues to fuck himself. Richard clutches at Adam’s back, trying to tilt his hips up into the thrusts. He’s always appreciated this part of sexbots, this need to meet completion like any other human-

It’s like a meter, Richard thinks vaguely, his thoughts scattering briefly when Adam gives a quivering moan. Fill it up enough and get the shiny gold medal at the top. It’s almost like a game in some ways, and Richard’s certainly played it plenty in different places, different times. This isn’t the same, though, more of a need than an option- he wants to see Adam come more than he sought his own climax just moments before. Adam moans again into the side of Richard’s neck, his body writhing and moving until Richard doesn’t give a damn about what’s real or not.

“Richard,” Adam says, a desperate edge to his voice, and his muscles clench until Richard’s cock twitches feebly in an attempt to make a comeback. Adam groans, a shiver running up the length of his body that locks him up for a glorious few seconds, then he raises his head and shoves his tongue into Richard’s mouth, kissing him as thoroughly and enthusiastically as if they haven’t just had a mind-blowing round of sex.

“Babe,” Richard finally gasps, his nerves on fire and his heart racing in his chest. “You’re killing me here.”

Adam laughs and untangles himself, rolling onto his back and exhaling happily. “You’re _funny_.”

Richard glances over, bemused, and catches Adam looking at him. There’s a lazy smile playing on the bot’s lips that Richard’s tempted to kiss away, and one of his knees hitches up under Richard’s attention, canting to the side.

“Incredible,” Richard mutters, then forces himself to move off the bed. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Adam giggles up at the ceiling and Richard raises his eyebrows.

“You all right?”

“Mm, yeah. I’m good.” Adam pauses, then snorts and rolls out of bed. He stumbles past Richard without a second glance and shuts the bathroom door in his face.

Richard stares at the door for a second, realizes his mouth is open, and closes it. Maybe it’s just a personality thing, he thinks doubtfully. It’s not like Adam’s exactly _normal_ , by all accounts. Not for the first time in the past three days, he wonders what kind of mess he’s gotten himself into now.

After a few minutes of the sound of running water, Adam emerges, his skin still damp and a beatific smile on his face as he hooks an arm around Richard’s neck and drops a kiss onto the top of his head before stumbling back to bed and flopping face down.

Richard watches him, amused, then takes his turn in the bathroom.

By the time he’s out, dressed, and slipping on his tie, Adam’s wrapped himself up like a cocoon and plopped a pillow over his face. Richard goes and stands by the bed, tightening his tie. “I’ve got to go,” he says, with slight guilt. “You’ll be all right staying here, won’t you?”

“I don’t want you to go,” Adam says, his voice muffled in the pillow.

Richard sighs and reaches out, tugging the pillow away. Adam immediately grabs the sheets and bundles them in his hands, clutching the fabric to his chest and blinking up sulkily. “I don’t want you to go,” he repeats, and Richard frowns. Adam’s weird, but not _this_ weird.

“You okay?” He reaches out to feel Adam’s face, wondering if he’s overheated his systems, and Adam rolls his cheek against Richard’s palm, like some kind of damn cat.

“Tired.” Adam clutches at Richard’s wrist when he moves his hand, but his fingers lack strength and Richard pulls away easily. “Richarrrrd.” His voice slurs when he speaks, and his eyes slide off of Richard’s face to gaze at the ceiling.

“That’s it,” Richard decides, frowning down at Adam’s dazed expression and lucid grin. “You’re coming with me.” He’ll stop by Rudy’s and try to see what’s going on; he’ll be late to work, but somehow he suspects that this is a problem he needs to deal with sooner rather than later.

Adam brightens a little, and he allows Richard to unwrap him from the sheets and heave him up to his feet. It takes a few minutes of rooting through drawers and no small amount of cursing to turn up a sweatshirt that’s too big on Richard, one of his old gray ones from college with peeling letters across the front. There’s no getting around the pants, and he watches skeptically as Adam pulls his leather pair back up. They’re going to have to do some shopping, he thinks grimly. It’s either that or mug his MX for his cargos, and he doesn’t think that’ll go down well for either of them.

“It smells like you,” Adam says dreamily, standing there with the gray sweatshirt pulled halfway over his face and his eyes blinking slowly over the top.

Richard sighs again, reaching out to yank the sweatshirt down all the way and flipping the hood over Adam’s head. “Let’s go.”

“I like your holsters,” Adam confides, trailing behind him as he heads to the door. “They’re sexy. _So_ hot. I just want to lick-”

Richard snorts and grabs Adam before he walks into the doorway. “There’s something seriously wrong with you.”

“I’m fine,” Adam protests, but he holds on to the edge of Richard’s jacket and follows him meekly to the elevators.

Richard calls the precinct in the car as he pulls out of the parking garage and gains himself an hour’s leeway. Adam spends the drive messing with Richard’s radio, until Richard finally turns the thing off and sets Adam’s hand back in his lap. “Stay,” he instructs, and Adam grins loopily at him.

“Where are we?” Adam asks when they finally slide into a parking space beside the church, and Richard glances over at him.

“To…...see a doctor,” Richard mutters, then reaches over to unclick Adam’s seat belt for him. “Come on.”

He marches Adam up the stairs and past the old-fashioned wooden doors, pausing only to peer into a retinal scanner in the corridor beyond and blink up at a hidden camera. There’s a whir and a click as the security system recognizes him, and he pushes open the steel door to Rudy’s laboratory.

Rudy himself is nowhere to be seen, and Richard leads Adam warily into the lab. He jumps instinctively when he glimpses a figure in the distance, then scowls when he realizes it’s the half-stripped carcass of an android, dangling from the back of its spinal column from the ceiling.

“So gross,” Adam whispers in his ear, accompanied with a childish snicker, and Richard rolls his eyes.

“Rudy?” Richard hears a distant thump and travels towards it. “Wait here,” he tells Adam, signaling for him to stop behind a tall shipping container. Adam bobs up and down on his heels, sticking his hands in the opposite sleeves of the sweatshirt and giggling silently at himself when he tries to pull his hands apart.

“Rudy, you there?” Richard calls out, peering around the corner of the container, then ducks instinctively when something falls over on the other side with a loud clatter. “Holy-”

“Sorry,” comes the breathless apology, and Richard hears a rush of pattering footsteps. “Sorry, that was….was an accident….”

Richard raises his head and looks around again, squinting warily at Rudy, who’s busily picking up what looks like a box of synthetic eyeballs. One of them rolls around to stare at Richard through crimson irises and Richard represses the urge to pull out his gun and shoot the damn thing.

“Detective Paul.” Rudy sets the box on the table, pushing it away from the edge nervously. “What can I do for you today?”

“Uh.” Richard stares hard at the box, then forces himself to meet Rudy’s flitting gaze. “I’ve got something for you to look at.”

“Sure.” Richard flips his goggles back on and peers at Richard through the magnifying lenses. “It’s for a case, I presume?”

“Um.” Adam tries to come out then and Richard pushes him back with an elbow.

“Who’s your friend?” Rudy asks, trying to look surreptitiously around the container, and Richard sighs.

“He’s, ah. He’s the one I need you to look at.” Richard reaches out and grabs Adam’s arm, tugging him into sight.

Rudy blinks a few times, the effect made slightly ridiculous by his goggles. “That’s a sexbot.”

“Hello,” Adam says stiffly, then reaches down and takes Richard’s hand. Richard freezes, and Rudy’s eyes wander down to their hands, back to Adam’s face, before locking uncertainly on Richard.

“So this is a…....personal query, then,” Rudy says carefully. Richard feels himself flushing, and he scowls as he tries in vain to pull his hand away from Adam’s.

“Adam was registered to Franco de Vega,” he finally says, resignedly allowing Adam to weave their fingers together tightly. “The police currently have custody of him and the other bots, so I thought you could, you know.” He gestures around him with his free hand. “Make sure he’s running okay.”

“Has there been a problem?” Rudy’s sliding into his professional mode, idly rolling up his sleeves as he advances.

“Ah, yeah, I’d say so.” Adam’s trying to hide behind Richard now and Richard shuffles around clumsily, trying to nudge him forward. “He’s sort of….clingy…..and stuff. I think he’s maybe running low on charge.”

“Jerk,” Adam mumbles petulantly, and Rudy nods knowingly.

“Yes, it’s quite possible. These newer models from last year’s line have an upgraded battery function, y’know, it’s really quite interesting. The bot’s personality interface regresses along with the level of charge, corresponding with what a human’s natural reaction would be to differing degrees of fatigue. It’s almost a form of instinct, trying to remain close to their human partner in order to ensure that they receive the required char-”

“That’s fascinating,” Richard interrupts, trying to dislodge Adam’s hands from under his shirt. “Can you just…..plug him in somewhere?”

“Certainly.” Rudy halts a couple of feet away, then holds out his hands awkwardly. “Come on now…..Adam, is it?”

“No,” Adam says, frowning mistrustfully over Richard’s shoulder.

“ _Yes_. Adam, go with Rudy, all right?” Richard plants a hand on Adam’s back and steers him forward. “He’ll take care of you.”

“No,” Adam says again, his expression taking on a look of panic, and he grasps for Richard’s arm.

“Hey.” Richard grabs the front of Adam’s sweatshirt and pulls him around so that they’re face-to-face. "Behave, okay?”

Adam hesitates, biting down on his lower lip, and he glances at Rudy. “Where will you be?”

“I’ll be right here,” Richard tells him. He’s got another half hour, he reasons with himself, and it’s only a five minute drive to the precinct from the lab. It’ll be fine. “Don’t worry.”

Adam looks at him, blinks twice in distress, then nods.

It turns out Richard has a lot to think about while he waits for Adam to charge up. Now that he has the opportunity to take a break, everything he’s been diligently avoiding thinking about for the past twelve hours now comes rushing back with a vengeance. Seeing as he hasn’t woken up to screaming cruisers around his apartment, nobody’s noticed Adam’s absence yet. Either that, or there’s an ambush waiting for him in the bullpen.

Adam twitches when Rudy hooks him up, pulling a grimace like a kid getting his first shot, and Richard finds himself watching idly. It’s been a while, he reflects, since he’s had to deal with something like this- all immaturities involving Kennex aside, that is. It reminds him a bit of taking care of his younger brother, at least for the first few years. Growing up near the Wall means growing up fast, and Richard remembers making runs for the local gangs as a kid on his first bike, still with the training wheels on and Malcolm clinging on to his waist.

“I’ll run some diagnostics while he’s plugged up, shall I?” Rudy eventually calls over, and Richard jerks back into reality.

“Yeah, sure,” Richard says distractedly, glancing at his watch. “Look, um. How much longer is this going to take?”

“Depends. Would you prefer a charge of fifty-eight percent or seventy?”

Richard’s eyebrow twitches. “I’m assuming seventy’s the right answer here.”

“Again, that depends,” Rudy says absently. “You know, the best time I’ve ever had with a sexbot was when her charge was at forty-”

“Whoa,” Richard protests violently, and Rudy shrugs abashedly, lowering his head to tap at his console.

“Sorry. It’ll just be a few more minutes.” There’s a sudden round of beeping from the tablet in Rudy’s hands, and Rudy squints up at his screens. “Huh.”

“What’s wrong?” Richard asks, standing up. Behind Rudy, Adam twists on the metal table, trying to look over his shoulder around the cords snaking into the back of his neck.

“No, no, nothing wrong. Just…..something odd, that’s all.” Rudy swipes at a couple of data windows and scratches at his cheek. “Detective, you might want to see this.”

Richard crosses over and stands by Rudy’s chair, peering blankly at the screen. “What am I looking at here?”

“Something in his programming….” Rudy mumbles, poking at his tablet. “It’s not right.”

“Well, that makes it wrong, doesn’t it?” Richard asks impatiently. “Which means something _is_ wrong.”

“Am I sick?” Adam interrupts, and Richard glances back at him automatically.

“You’re fine,” he says, then stares pointedly at Rudy. “He’s fine, right?”

Rudy purses his lips, never a good sign in any body language chart, and taps a few keys. “I’ve found some unidentifiable software riding on his main processing cortex.”

“What, like….like a virus or something?”

“More like a….hitchhiker.” Rudy frowns down thoughtfully at his tablet. “It’s a change made after manufacturing- someone’s piggybacked it to Adam’s programming.”

Richard exhales, looking back at Adam. The cords twisting up into the panel beneath Adam’s skull pulses periodically with blue light, echoing in his eyes as he meets Richard’s gaze and gives him a reassuring smile. Crazy bot, worrying about the wrong person. “The harvester rings,” he says. “They’ve been using bots to transport black market software between buyers. You think this could be tied to the case?”

“It’d certainly be a step up from the usual,” Rudy says, fidgeting nervously. “The other bots John and Dorian have turned up were only carrying the hardware for the programs….disks and stick drives and so forth.”

“But it’s possible.”

“The way the world is today, anything could be possible.” Rudy sets down the tablet, then jumps when his phone starts ringing. “That’ll be John now,” he says, glancing at the ID on the screen. “He’ll want to know about this.”

Richard runs a hand over his face, trying to wipe away the panic before it can settle in. “Yeah.” He doesn’t know what he’s going to do, other than pray that Kennex doesn’t know what the sexbots from Cobalt look like. But, shit, even if he doesn’t, Dorian will, and that’s it. It’s all over and he can say goodbye to his entire career. Damn, and he was sure that he’d nail that promotion this time……

 _You’re overthinking this,_ a tiny voice in the back of his mind chides. _Calm down._

 _Shut up_ , a much louder voice snaps. _You’re thinking just the right amount_.

“John,” Rudy’s saying now, and Richard forces himself to pay attention. “I’ve got….what, already? Come on in-”

The lab door swings open then, and there’s a long, prolonged pause before everything abruptly goes to hell.

"Hi, John," Adam says cheerfully, kicking his feet from where he’s still perched on the examination table. “How’s it going?”

"Adam?" Kennex splutters incredulously, his voice echoing around the walls of the church.

"Ah," says Dorian.

"Kennex-" Richard starts, then blinks. "You-"

" _Richard_?" Kennex looks like he's going to blow a fuse.

"Rudy," Rudy says vaguely. Four heads swivel around to stare at him, and Rudy raises his hands defensively. “I thought we were having a moment.”

“No moment,” Kennex growls. He jabs an accusing finger down at them from the stairs. “What the hell’s going on? What’s he doing here?” His finger swings across to point at Adam, and Richard finds himself moving between them instinctively.

“John, you should calm down,” Dorian says mildly. “Neanderthal tactics aren’t usually helpful in confusing situations. And you know about your blood pressure-”

“Neanderthal,” Richard snorts, unable to keep from getting a shot in. “Sounds about right.”

“Shut up, Paul, I don’t even know why you’re here-”

“Please stop shouting,” Rudy says weakly, and is ignored by everyone except Dorian, who promptly plants himself in front of Kennex and gives his partner a _look_. Any other time, Richard might have interjected a snide comment about Kennex being thoroughly whipped, but now he can only be relieved when Kennex shuts up, albeit disgruntledly.

“Hello, Adam,” Dorian says, giving a polite nod, and Richard glances behind him. Adam’s head is cocked to the left, his eyelids lowered slightly as he first contemplates Dorian, then Kennex.

“I see we all know each other,” Rudy says, clearly as at much of a loss here as Richard. “That’s…..nice. Gives us all that….that bond of acquaintance and…..and such….”

“We’ve met,” Kennex says shortly, turning his glare from Richard to Adam. His gaze changes a little, and Richard stares at him, trying to figure out the sudden shift. There’s familiarity, for sure, but something else….something almost soft, for Kennex, and Richard feels something twist unpleasantly in his gut.

“What-” he begins, and Kennex cuts him off.

“It ain’t story time now, Paul. We’re here on business.”

“Oh,” Rudy mumbles. Dorian gives him a bracing clap on the shoulder as he circles around the table, handing Rudy a small data disk.

“We found this on a suspect yesterday,” he says. “It’s heavily encrypted and the suspect’s just a carrier. We believe it has to do with the program trafficking rings.”

“Ah, the harvester case.” Rudy picks up his tablet again. “Speaking of….”

“You never answered me,” Kennex interrupts, his eyes locking back on Rudy again. “What’s Adam doing here?”

“Oops,” Adam murmurs.

Richard squints at Kennex. “You know him.” The twisty feeling is back, dark and bitter in the back of his throat.

“He’s one of de Vega’s,” Dorian says unexpectedly, and Kennex whirls around to stare down his partner.

“You knew?”

“I thought you’d overreact.” Dorian gives Kennex a pointed look, and Richard jumps in, trying to deflect the subject.

“Who was the perp you pulled the disk from?”

“Killian George,” Dorian says, overriding Kennex’s attempts at interrupting. “The tenant of the apartment building opposite of Cobalt who made the 911 call.”

“He see anything?”

“He made the call after witnessing what appeared to be a break-in, but stopped when he recognized one of the perpetrators. After some…..convincing-” Dorian’s eyes flick briefly to his fuming partner, “-we were able to extract a name.”

“And?” Richard asks impatiently. Behind him, he hears the muffled sounds of Rudy attempting to keep Adam from wiggling off the table.

“Morelli family,” Kennex grunts. “Should’ve known.”

“I’m sorry,” Rudy breaks in. “Would you mind breaking that down in normal terms, for those of us present who are unfamiliar with the criminal activities of this great city?”

“Morelli gang,” Richard answers. “Largest ongoing party in the black market. They’ve got their fingers in pretty much every major operation in the city. It explains how all these circles have been popping up, if the Morellis have taken an interest in them. Where’s George now?”

“Protective custody. He’s the only eyewitness we currently have,” Dorian answers. “If it comes to a trial, Killian’s our best shot at putting the Morellis away for good.”

“Better double that security detail,” Richard says darkly. He’s seen the Morellis at work- they’re dirty and ruthless, but good. Usually a hit or two like this will show up every couple of years, some tax collection that’s gone wrong and ended in a hail of bullets. Then everything will go quiet again, at least until the next tide of under-the-radar crimes that’s never bold enough to draw too much attention.

“Already on it.” Kennex doesn’t sound happy about it, and Richard finds himself reluctantly sympathizing. He hates protective detail almost as much as Kennex himself, having to stay cooped up and on guard for hours while the witness quietly wets his pants. Or, if they’re unlucky, it’ll be a loud one that constantly bemoans their fate.

“I find him quite stimulating company, actually,” Dorian says mildly. “He plays a good game of chess.”

“Stimulating,” Richard thinks he hears Kennex mutter dubiously under his breath, but he’s distracted by a hand touching his arm.

“Hey,” he says, as Adam leans against his side. “You all done?”

“Mmm.” Adam’s too tall to prop his chin on Richard’s shoulder, but he tries to do it anyway, ending up with his head on top of Richard’s instead. “Can we leave?”

“Can he?” Richard redirects, glancing at Rudy.

“I’ve topped off his charge. He should be good for another couple of days, given that he, ah….conserves his energy accordingly.” There’s a couple of painfully silent heartbeats during which Kennex looks constipated and Dorian’s face goes interestingly blank. Richard closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths.

“Okay, then. You.” He jiggles Adam’s weight, jostling him away from his back. “You all right heading back to the car by yourself?”

Adam gives him a look that’s somewhere between amused and quietly exasperated. “Yeah.”

“Why don’t you….” He gestures uncomfortably and Adam’s eyebrow twitches before he nods.

“See you later,” the bot tells Rudy, then he bends and kisses Richard’s cheek before anyone can do anything, and he’s gone without another word.

Richard blinks hard once, twice. The elephant in the room has abruptly multiplied into an entire herd.

“God,” Kennex mumbles, his expression inscrutable.

“John,” Dorian says reproachfully, for no reason whatsoever that Richard can think of.

“You’re one crazy son of a bitch,” Kennex tells Richard stubbornly. “You don’t know what-”

“Look, man,” Richard says, stepping forward and grabbing at Kennex’s arm. The other man tenses instinctively at his touch, glaring down at him, and Richard holds on doggedly. “I had to take him.” It suddenly seems important that he justify himself somehow.

“Sounds like you need to listen more to your head up here,” Kennex says darkly, tapping his own temple. “Stupid move, Paul.”

“What, you think I don’t know that?” Richard snaps. He forces himself to back down, tells himself that biting back won’t do any good. “He asked me to. He _asked_. Said he didn’t want to be deactivated- and what the hell was I supposed to say to that, huh?” Richard feels like he should be more self-conscious at the end of it- like he’s confessed to a weakness that he’d normally scorn in others. But then he thinks about Adam, about how he has a name and warm hands and that he’s….he’s somehow more than another synthetic body, and somehow it doesn’t seem like a real weakness at all.

Damn, he’s seriously screwed.

Kennex looks at him strangely for a moment, his mouth opening as if he’s going to rag on Richard again. But then he visibly hesitates, eyes darting away from Richard for a split second and back again before Richard can follow his gaze, and Kennex gives a curt nod instead. “As long as you know what you’re doing,” he says. “The bot’s as good of a witness as we’ve got, anyway.” Kennex doesn’t say ‘evidence,’ Richard notices, but he’s too distracted at the moment to dwell on the oddity of the wording.

He nods back, feeling like a ‘Thank you’ would be ill received, and drops his hand from Kennex’s arm.

“We’re heading out,” Dorian’s telling Rudy behind them. “See what the word on the streets is about any Morelli involvement with the harvesters.”

“I’ll go,” Richard says. He pushes his hands in his pockets, rocks self-consciously on his heels when three pairs of eyes lock on him. “I’ve got people on the corners. Reliable sources.” Hanna will probably help, he thinks. Her corner isn’t that far from Cobalt, and she’s been good to him ever since he caught the killer picking off her girls. “I’ll report what I find.”

By the time he leaves the lab, Adam has the car running and is busily changing all of Richard’s preset radio stations.

“Hey,” Richard protests mildly, as he slides into his seat. “What gives?”

Adam gives him a long look, then shrugs. “Nothing. Are we going home now?”

 _Home_.

“No,” Richard says abruptly, trying not to show how startled he is by the simple question. “ _We’re_ not.”

Adam’s eyebrows twitch upwards. “No?”

“I’ll drive you back,” Richard says, glancing at his watch. “Then I need to work.” The girls wouldn’t be on the streets yet, but he has plenty of connections left that do their dirty work under the light of day. He’ll start with Dixon, he decides, work his way through to Ironworks and find Ashton. Ashton might be a problem. The graze on his shoulder can attest to that.

“I want to stay with you,” Adam says instantly, and Richard sighs.

“You can’t.” There’ll be no explaining to his contacts why he’s towing a sexbot around with him, especially one as……well. He glances over at Adam, takes in the ruffled blond hair and too-large sweatshirt. “It’s for your own good,” he finally says, which appears to be the wrong answer.

Adam frowns at him, the corners of his mouth dropping in displeasure. “Why not?”

“Just can’t, is all. Put on your seatbelt.”

To his surprise, and no small amount of guilt, Adam doesn’t say a word the entire drive back. If it’s some form of passive retaliation, it’s more effective than Richard’s willing to let on, and he’s wired up tighter than a time bomb by the time he pulls into the lot in front of his apartment.

They sit there in silence for a couple of minutes, Richard staring doggedly out the windshield and Adam stiffly maintaining his disapproval.

“Here’s the key,” Richard eventually says, when the tension gets so thick that he can feel it dripping down the back of his neck. “Just…….stay here, all right?”

Adam’s fingers brush against his when he takes the key card in a way that couldn’t have been unintentional.

“Be careful,” Adam says quietly, looking down at his lap as he turns the card over and over in his hand. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Richard says, too startled to respond otherwise, and he watches as Adam makes his way across the lot. He cuts a forlorn figure in his mismatched clothes, and Richard makes an absent note to amend that as soon as possible.

His comm beeps- Kennex checking up on his progress, and Richard jabs back a short response.

“On my way,” he mutters, and he goes.

……………….

It’s obscenely late by the time Richard returns to his apartment, smelling of cigarettes and cheap perfume and feeling more tired than he has in months. It does that to him, seeing the streets he grew up on. The rat’s maze of dirty walls and gaunt faces that he tried so hard to escape. It never goes away, though, not completely. It’s with him every time he works a case, every time he sends another screwed up kid to the cubes. Every time he thinks about Malcolm.

 _Shut up_ , he reminds himself absently, and jabs at the elevator button. He’ll finish up the report in the morning, he decides. Meanwhile, he has six floors to contemplate what could be waiting for him behind his apartment door. It’s not like he left Adam in the best of moods earlier, and while normally he’d put it down to an erratic spike in personality programming, Adam is anything but normal. Who knows if he’s still mad, or even if he was mad to begin with.

This is almost as bad as coming home to his ex-wife. He laughs a little at that, a quiet snort under his breath, and tells himself he’s being stupid. Just act like normal, it’ll all be fine.

Richard fiddles with the lock to his door, wrestling with one final stir of doubt, before the mechanism inevitably beeps and clicks open. He steps apprehensively into the dark hallway, takes a deep breath, then grunts when something slams into his chest, spinning him around and knocking him into the wall. The door bangs shut behind him and Richard automatically gropes for his gun, shoving outward with his other hand and meeting something firm and warm.

“Shit,” Richard swears, his heart racing madly as he wraps his hand around Adam’s shoulder. “You scared the hell out of me!”

“Surprise,” Adam offers, then presses his mouth to Richard’s in an enthusiastic kiss, as if it somehow makes up for the heart attack. It’s a few long moments before Richard can breathe again, and he squints at the shadowy outline of Adam’s face and body.

“Why are the lights off?” he finally asks, trying not to react when Adam’s hand wanders casually down his side, thumbing at his ribs.

“Told you,” Adam says, his lips sliding over Richard’s forehead as he speaks. “It was a surprise.”

“Well, consider me surprised- _hurk_.” He ends on a breathy squeak when Adam suddenly grabs his crotch, giving his dick a healthy squeeze through his pants.

“I’m going to kiss you again,” Adam says matter-of-factly. “And then….” He runs his hand down Richard’s inseam. “I’m going to get you out of these clothes.”

Richard swallows, his eyes fixed on where he thinks Adam’s mouth is. It’s tricky in the dark, but he can catch the occasional gleam of Adam’s teeth and imagine the rest of it, lips curled in a slight smile as he watches Richard. “And then?” he finally manages to ask, unable to keep from licking his own suddenly dry lips. He had some point, he realizes belatedly. Something to say.

Adam leans in close, crowding Richard against the wall, and nuzzles the side of his face affectionately. “And then I’m going to fuck you,” he murmurs, and Richard’s heart trips a couple of steps in his chest before his mind goes blank. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Richard breathes, so quickly that Adam chuckles a little. “Yeah, that’s- that’s good. A good idea. Great.” He’s rambling now, his mouth running on autopilot, and thankfully Adam takes the responsibility of keeping up his end of the conversation by making good on his plan and kissing him again, his mouth sliding down the curve of Richard’s jaw to lick and suck at his neck. His hands are already moving, working deftly at the buttons of Richard’s shirt, his belt clinking as Adam unbuckles it and slides it free from its loops.

Richard inhales deeply, his face bumping against Adam’s shoulder. It’s a great tragedy of life, he thinks, that their bodies don’t line up right when they’re vertical, but he feels a little better when scent recognition kicks in and he realizes that Adam’s still wearing his university sweatshirt. “God, that’s hot,” he mutters, then shivers when Adam’s inquisitive, “Hmm?” vibrates against his throat.

“Bed,” Richard answers decisively. He has to rise up on his toes to kiss Adam, but he manages it without too much humiliation and bunches the hood of the sweatshirt in his hands. “C’mon,” he says, then gives a startled yelp when Adam’s hands slide down his back and grab the back of his thighs, hoisting him up in the air.

“You-” Richard splutters, instinctively wrapping his arms and legs around Adam like he’s a squirrel on a fucking tree and initiating a death grip to keep from falling on his ass. “Jesus, give a guy some warning, will you?”

“Sorry,” Adam says absently as he begins walking them to the bedroom. _Thank God for small mercies_ , Richard thinks. At least his apartment is small enough that it’s only about ten feet to his mattress. Somewhere along the way, Adam noses his face forward and kisses Richard again, and he’s too distracted to notice being set down until he’s bouncing on his back, the mattress creaking in complaint beneath them as Adam crawls over him.

“You’re in a good mood,” Richard tells him, his mind finally catching up to his body, if only to yell at him that they’re going a bit faster than what would be considered normal. “Thought you were pissed.”

“I missed you,” Adam answers earnestly, like it excuses everything, his tone plaintive as he studies Richard’s face gravely. Richard nearly goes cross-eyed trying to focus on him, and he blinks when Adam suddenly dips down to press his mouth against Richard’s, his tongue flicking out against Richard’s lips and pulling back just as Richard tries to reciprocate.

“Fucking tease,” Richard grumbles, and Adam’s eyebrow twitches up at him in amusement.

“You don’t like it?”

“Come on now,” Richard admonishes, raising his head up from the bed, and Adam bends down just enough to brush his nose against Richard’s cheek before pulling away again.

“ _Adam_ ,” Richard says in exasperation, and Adam grins at him. His hand suddenly tightens down on Richard’s shoulder, his thumb digging into the joint, and Richard abruptly finds his face pressed down into the bed, a heavy weight on his back. “Hey-”

“Quiet,” Adam says against the side of his neck, and Richard goes still, his heart pounding against the bed. He can smell clean linen, the sheets inexplicably crisp against his face, and he wonders suddenly if Adam did the laundry while he was out. Adam’s hips are now pressed against his ass, his chest melded against Richard’s spine, and Richard lets out a startled sound when Adam grinds down against him. He forgets about the laundry.

“Okay,” Richard mutters, more to himself than Adam. “Okay, then-” His breath hitches when Adam’s hand yanks at his shirt, pulling it free from his belt and pushing his fingers beneath Richard’s waistband. Adam keeps kissing at the back of Richard’s neck as he moves, sucking lightly at his hairline. He needs to shave again soon, Richard thinks dizzily, and then he stops thinking completely when Adam wraps a sure hand around his cock.

“How’s that?” Adam’s nose nudges against the back of his left ear, his tongue flicking out to touch the lobe.

Richard tries to answer and ends up giving a strangled groan instead when Adam’s fingers tighten around him, his thumb pressing into the slit. “Jesus.”

“That good, huh?” Adam murmurs, and Richard can feel his smile against the side of his head. Then his hand disappears, so abruptly that Richard whines a little in protest before clamping down on his lower lip.

_What the hell?_

He feels his shirt being tugged off, hears a rustle of cloth behind him and imagines Adam tossing his sweatshirt over the side of the bed. A rush of cool air brushes his skin as his pants are pulled down to his knees, and he struggles to help lift his legs out of their confines when Adam pulls again, more impatiently this time.

“Don’t wrinkle those,” he tries to get out, then winces when he hears the inevitable sound of his pants flying against some distant wall.

“What was that?” Adam asks, and then his hands are on Richard again, one hand hauling his hips up in the air and the other pressing his shoulders down. It’s a stupidly exposing angle, his ass up in the air like some sort of offering, but damn it, Richard’s somehow even harder than before now and Adam’s barely touched him.

“Don’t remember,” Richard gasps truthfully. He digs his fingers into the sheets when he feels Adam’s hands spreading him open, his thighs quivering in anticipation and nervousness and _fuck_ , this is really going to happen-

“It’s been a while,” he blurts out, before he can stop himself. “Just- just saying.” He flattens his face into the mattress, appalled at himself.

Adam pauses, and Richard can imagine his expression all too well. Curious, quizzical, tilted just a little to the right as he contemplates Richard’s naked ass. “I’ll be careful.”

“Don’t be,” Richard’s mouth says, even as his brain shrieks in mortification.

A longer pause now, and he can feel Adam’s breath against his bare skin. Richard twitches involuntarily, his nerves getting the better of him, and it’s all he can do to keep himself from somersaulting off the bed when he feels a light kiss against the small of his back.

“God, you’re adorable,” he hears Adam mutter, and he raises his head indignantly at that.

“Hey-”

“Shhhhh.” The reprimand is followed by a long, deliberate lick, from the base of his spine to the back of his balls, and Richard feels his mind begin to splinter.

“Fuck-”

Adam nips him a little for the interruption, a sharp pinch of teeth to one cheek that obliterates the rest of Richard’s sentence. He settles for trying to breathe instead, exhaling harshly into the warm, damp air between his face and the bed as Adam’s tongue wanders slowly back upwards. It’s a tortuous journey, Adam pulling away occasionally to blow across sensitive skin before returning with lips and tongue, occasionally scraping with his teeth until Richard’s reduced to a coiled ball of energy, straining at the edges.

“Adam,” Richard can’t help but squeak, when Adam’s mouth finally reaches the tight ring of muscle. “Please.”

“Hmm?”

“Please- c’mon.” Richard’s hips jut forward a little, fucking the empty air before he forces himself to stop. “I need….”

“Yeah? What do you need?”

“God _dammit_ -” Richard chokes on a muffled cry when Adam abruptly forces his tongue inside, elbowing Richard’s thighs farther apart to get a better angle.

He loses track of time. All he knows is Adam’s touch, fingers pressing round bruises against his skin as he holds Richard open, hot breath and tongue working him patiently as Adam sucks marks into the most sensitive area of his body, biting and exhaling and marking him until Richard feels like he’s going to _die_.

“Fuck- yeah, c’mon,” he grunts, and he’s not certain that he’s even making sense anymore. “Adam. Adam, please.” It almost hurts, how hard he is- he can feel himself practically dripping, his cock throbbing urgently with every rapid beat of his heart.

Adam pulls away long enough to lay a reassuring kiss on Richard’s skin. “I’ve got you,” he says, and then something more solid than a tongue presses against him, wiggling in and crooking and then-

“Shit, shit, _Adam_.” Richard scrabbles for a handhold and ends up clutching his pillow to his chest, curling helplessly in on himself as Adam jabs unerringly at his prostate.

“Richard,” Adam whispers, his voice echoing the rough edge to Richard’s words. “You’re taking it so well, just look at you.” A second finger follows, curling in and sliding along Richard’s inner walls. “You’re amazing.”

Richard groans in agony, wanting _more_ , damn it, and he tries to thrust back on Adam’s fingers in wordless demand. He can feel sweat clinging to his skin, dripping in his open mouth as he gasps for breath. “C’mon. Come on, come on, come _on_.”

Adam’s fingers suddenly shove in deep, deeper than they’ve gone before, and the burning knot in Richard’s gut surges in response. He’s coming- he’s going to come- and then Adam’s hand is clenching tight around the base of his cock, keeping him from climaxing.

It fucking hurts, how close Richard is, and he thinks he sobs a little from the pleasure and the pain of it as he falls back down from the peak. “Fu-u-ck,” he chokes, blinking back tears from the corners of his eyes. “You sonuva-”

“Not yet,” Adam tells him. He pulls away, keeping a tight grip on Richard’s cock, and then something larger than fingers slides along the small of Richard’s back.

“Yes,” Richard thinks he says, though he’s not sure of anything anymore. “Please.” There’s something oddly liberating about it, letting Adam guide him in this. Letting someone else set the pace for once. As much as he may have bitched about Kennex running the bullpen, he’s never truly resented the shift in responsibilities as much as he acts.

Adam pushes inside him, slowly at first, then all at once with a huff of air, and Richard gulps for air, his breath rattling in his throat. He clenches down involuntarily, trying to adjust to the sudden girth stretching him open, and Adam makes a broken sound from behind him. His hand squeezes down on Richard’s hip, his other hand still resting warningly on Richard’s erection.

Richard shifts his weight to one shoulder, reaching down to grope blindly for Adam’s hand. “Not gonna,” he mumbles, the words mushy and sliding together. Adam seems to understand, though, and he releases Richard’s cock, moving his hand to Richard’s back instead.

“You’ve got another one here,” Adam mutters, his fingers finding Richard’s other tattoo on the back of his right shoulder blade. “A bird?” He rolls his hips casually as he speaks, and Richard bites back a groan.

“A swallow,” he answers, then reaches farther back and grabs at Adam’s thigh. “Now,” he orders, a little of the drill sergeant returning in his tone, and Adam obliges with an abrupt forward shove.

He doesn’t play around once he gets serious, Richard has to give him that. All he can do is hang on to his pillow and try not to come as Adam thrusts into him, just barely bordering on too rough as his fingertips drive bruises into Richard’s skin. He’s going to feel this later, throbbing with every step, and just thinking about it now pushes him that much closer to the edge.

He’s seriously messed up, Richard muses self-reflectively.

“This another- one of the stupid things- you did as a kid?” Adam asks, continuing their conversation like he’s not busy fucking Richard into the mattress.

“Ahh- wha….?” Richard pushes himself up on his elbow, arching his back in the process, and Adam’s hand inches up to palm at the back of his neck.

“The swallow,” Adam prompts. He shifts closer, his knees nudging at the inside of Richard’s legs as he grinds harder. Sparks fly across the back of Richard’s eyelids, and he forces his eyes open, staring at the shadows fading in and out on his bedroom wall.

“Something like that.” They always said they’d get out of the streets, him and Malcolm. “Always saw these…..these damn birds flying everywhere. Nesting in the roofs and- fuck!” Richard grunts harshly when Adam’s arm suddenly loops around his neck, grasping his shoulder and pulling him up on his knees. He grabs at Adam’s forearm, reaching back with his other hand to fumble at Adam’s hip. His skin slides against Adam’s, sweaty and hot, his insides churning as the motion drives Adam harder into him.

“Go on,” Adam murmurs, kissing his way from Richard’s ear to his shoulder. “Keep talking.”

“I-” Richard presses back against Adam’s chest, a tight moan escaping when Adam starts thrusting again, long strokes that seem to reach impossibly deep with every rock of his hips. “Can’t,” he groans. “I can’t.”

“Did you think about me?” Adam asks, changing tack so quickly that Richard loses track of the conversation. All he can do is feel, feel Adam’s hands on him, hot and tight and smooth skin slapping against his own. “While you were gone.”

“I…” Richard clenches his eyes shut, tries to shut out everything but what Adam’s saying. His ears are ringing, his head pounding with something that’s not quite pain. “Yeah,” he eventually says, the admission punched out of him with a sharp exhale.

Adam groans at that, a low throbbing sound that goes straight to Richard’s neglected cock, and Richard feels teeth sinking into his shoulder. The pressure building in his blood, his breath, his very bones, spikes violently at the bite, and he doesn’t recognize the desperate noises he makes as he keens, trying to get friction, acknowledgment, _anything_.

Adam’s hand reaches down, gives Richard a single stroke, and that’s it, he’s gone. He comes with a helpless shout, a brutal jerk of his hips as Adam’s fist tightens and slides over him again, pressing deep inside him through the aftershocks.

The world briefly dissolves.

“Richard,” Adam whispers, over and over again, like sort of backwards benediction as he drops a lingering kiss on the bite mark, soothing the sting of it with his tongue as he spreads his hand across Richard’s heaving chest, leaving trails of cooling come in his wake as he pets the twitching muscles. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“Ungh,” is all Richard can manage, his head tipping back on Adam’s shoulder as he tries to fit himself back into his own skin. It’s like he’s left half of himself somewhere up in the stars, and he slowly comes back to himself when Adam carefully withdraws, humming gently at Richard’s involuntary noise of protest.

“Goddamn,” Richard mutters, boneless without Adam’s support, and he flops gracelessly onto his stomach before rolling onto his back. Adam’s face hovers above his, unapologetically amused. “ _Damn_ ,” Richard repeats, more emphatically this time.

“You’re a mess,” Adam chides him, like he’s not the one who took Richard apart so efficiently. “Stay.”

“Not going anywhere,” Richard assures him, and he watches with a flicker of weary appreciation as Adam slides off the bed and trots off to the bathroom. Synthetic or not, that’s one damn fine ass.

The washcloth that Adam brings back is cold, and Richard flinches at the first drops of water on his sternum.

“Sorry,” Adam murmurs, wiping at the drying smears on Richard’s chest.

“Mm.” Richard takes note of the way Adam pauses over his cross tattoo, and he wonders why it’s so fascinating. Must be a bot thing, he thinks. It’s not like anything about them is permanent, not like a tattoo or a scar or-

He has to stop himself there before he comes across trails he doesn’t want to start down. Not now, anyway, in the muddled post-coitus haze he’s wallowing in.

Adam tosses the washcloth carelessly on the nightstand when he’s finished, and Richard’s going to have to talk to him about that, if they’re going to be staying together for an indeterminable amount of time…..and Jesus, what the hell is he getting into, bringing this upon himself like this…..Kennex might have been right on this one.

“Hey.” Adam stretches out beside him, reclining lazily on his side with his head propped up on one hand. “What’s with the face?”

Richard blinks up at him, surprised. “I was just thinking,” he says slowly, realizing it’s true only as he says it. “About something Franco said.” He’s forgotten most of it, but this last bit has stuck with him for four days now and he thinks that’s something worth at least mentioning. “He said…..the contractor he bought you from told him that you can’t work independently anymore.”

“Mmm.” Adam traces lazy circles over Richard’s chest with a fingertip. “He did.”

“Why’s that?”

Adam’s quiet for a second, then he sighs and flattens his hand over Richard’s stomach, giving it a couple of pats before settling down. “I let a client have a night for free.”

“That’s not so bad,” Richard says, faintly surprised. He was expecting something a little more….he doesn’t even know, really.

“It’s not supposed to happen,” Adam says firmly. “I’m not supposed to. I don’t even know why I did it.” His leg touches hesitantly against Richard’s and Richard rolls over without thinking, facing Adam. The bot gazes at him unblinkingly, his eyes glowing slits in the darkness as he contemplates Richard. “He was different,” Adam eventually says, his voice so soft that Richard can barely hear him in the inches of silence between them. “He didn’t know what he wanted.”

“But you’ve got to get that a lot, right?” Richard asks, trying to suppress a sudden spike of jealousy. _Get a grip, Paul_. “Not every client knows exactly what they want.”

Adam shakes his head a little, his nose bumping against Richard’s. “No, it’s…..I don’t know how to explain,” he admits, “but he was different.”

Richard feels his mouth turn down instinctively into a scowl. “Yeah? What’s his name?” He thinks he says it casually enough, but Adam rises up on one elbow and looks down at him, the dim light catching the corner of his smirk.

“Are you jealous?”

“No,” Richard stutters, his stomach flipping inexplicably. “Don’t be stupid. Of course not.”

“You know I love you best,” Adam says. His tone is light, teasing, but the way he looks down at Richard is anything but.

“No. You don’t,” Richard says. It’s an automatic response, one that he’s not sure if he should regret afterwards.

Adam falls silent after that, and Richard glances up at him warily. The bot is watching him, his eyebrows drawn in concentration and his mouth slightly open like he wants to say something. But all he does is murmur a, “Good night, Richard,” before putting his head back down and throwing an arm over Richard’s waist.

Richard waits, but Adam doesn’t move away and so he finally closes his eyes, covering the back of Adam’s hand with his own. _Fuck,_ he says in his mind, but it’s only halfheartedly.

It’s a terrible thing, he thinks, when something wrong starts to feel this right.

Adam exhales softly, his cheek pressed against Richard’s shoulder. Richard lies awake for a long time afterwards, but Adam stays right where he is, until Richard reluctantly slips into the clutches of sleep.


End file.
